summer 2007 - seamonscc.co.uk · winners at the club 10, robin haigh, robert crampton, dan mathers,...

The Squirrel

Summer 2007

The Squirrel

Cover: Phil Holden in this years Mersey Roads 24, photo by Darren Buckley. ‘The Squirrel’ is the magazine of the Seamons Cycling Club. Editor— Pete Coles, 72 Bold Street, Altrincham,WA14 2ES. 0161 929 1462 or e-mail [email protected]. Club website at www.seamons.org.uk from where the on-line version of this magazine is available in PDF format.

Forthcoming Events Sept.8th Fun “10” 2 p.m. The Kilton Sept.28 Weekend away at Stephen Park, Gisburn Forest - contact Andy Burns Oct.7th Club Hill climb Withenshaw Hill Nov.9th AGM Friday Clubroom 8 p.m. Dec.7-8th Robin’s Montgomery weekend Dec.16th M&D Fancy Dress Cyclists Carol service Chelford church 2.30 p.m. Dec.23rd Club Hot-pot and Fancy Dress. This years theme is Panto characters.

5 Meet your clubmate…...…....Allan Blackburn 7 Tourist Trophy…Dave Barker & Jim Boydell 8 TransScotland…………………..Dan Mathers 13 100 in 8…………….…...……....Jim Boydell 15 France……………….……...Allan Blackburn 17 Longs and shorts………….…..John Carberry 20 Longest Day…………….……......John Barry 23 Baked Beans……………………..A.N. Other 24 Social Secs Corner…….……....Roger Haines 25 Meet your clubmate…….…....Cath Schofield 26 Cycling Madness...…….….Mike McConville 29 Ladies C2C…………….…...….Carol Pardoe 32 Obituary……………………….Jonny Pardoe 33 19 Gates………….……….……..Jim Boydell 35 The 12 Hr…….…...………………..Ian Udall 38 Testing Times……………..Mike McConville

Winners at the Club 10, Robin Haigh, Robert Crampton, Dan Mathers, Sara Blackburn & Ian Udall

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From Darren Buckley. We'd like a thank to everyone for the best wishes and congratulations for our wedding. And especially too Steve Booth for riding there with on what started out a wet and miserable day but turn into a bright warm day by Ruthin. I joined Steve in Delamere from there we rode together to Ruthin Castle on the 29th June, so I could get married there the following day. We got married at 2pm at Ruthin Castle on the 30th June...

Received via E-Mail

Just a few lines to record my thanks and ap-preciation for the warm reception I received when riding as a guest at the Seamons CC club evening TT on 13 June. Despite the weather (wet and overcast as befits an English June evening!) I met some very friendly, hu-mourous individuals who were as keen to offer course information as they were offer tips, such as saving weight on number pins and the benefits of hairy legs!

An enjoyable experience, despite the best endeavours of the weather, and I look forward

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to riding again soon; that is as soon as the course is stream-rollered flat on the return leg, which I understand is scheduled next year (or were they just taking the michael again?).

Chris Lowe

Swindon RC

Welcome to new members:

We extend a warm welcome to Nigel Kelly, John Mercer, Graham Silcock, Charles Carraz, Mark Watson and Edward Baldwin, and hope you enjoy your cycling with us. Forthcoming Attractions 1)Please note Fun “10” (not really “10”, not really fun! – well, it depends on you) will be Saturday Sept.8th 2 p.m. the Kilton on the A50. You will need a partner – that’s the “fun” bit. 2)The Club AGM Friday Nov.9th 8 p.m. club room (St.George’s church room, opposite Cresta Court). Nominations are sought for Vice-President, Social Secretary and Touring Secretary. 3)Robin’s Montgomery weekend Dec. 7-8th. 4)M&D Fancy Dress Dec.16th, also cyclists carol service at Chelford 2.30 p.m. 5)Club hot-pot and Fancy Dress Sunday Dec.23rd. If you have any good party tricks start practising them now. 6)Club Annual Dinner Saturday Feb.9th 2008. 7)Get your claims in for your club standards – Gold, Silver, Bronze (check in Handbook) – to Mike McConville (Time-trial Secretary) soon, please.

The road to recovery Hopefully on the mend now is Cath Schofield – see “Meet your clubmates” – who was knocked off her bike at a junction last month, the driver uttering the usual “Sorry, I didn’t see you”. Cath has had surgery to reconstruct her wrist, including titanium pates and lots of stitches. A pianist in her spare time, this is a double whammy, not to mention not being able to ride the Pyrenean Raid which was planned for September. Still, all being well she will be better for the Llangollen weekend next year! The Club send their best wishes to Jim Ham-man who has undergone surgery for cancer of the throat. He and Hazel have been very brave and positive. I personally would like to thank Hazel for giving me her time, when she had other things on her mind, to advise me on the catering for the Seamons road race, which she and Jim have done in the past.

Steve Booth

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It's taken a few years for this month's first clubmate to master the art of time trialling, although he has always had the potential. This year he has made up for it however with many personal bests. A counter in all the club team wins at the longer distances he finally broke the 240 mile barrier in this year's '12' hour. I'm not surprised. He looked mighty impressive at the start of the clubrun recently,; no doubt the couple of weeks in the Alps hadn't harmed Allan Blackburn's fitness at all..... When and where were you born? Morecambe, 1963. Spent the next 17 years on Christie Park council estate where I grew up – next door to Eric Morecambe’s old house. When I was a kid the council decided to spruce up the houses on my street and Phil Holden was a member of the workforce carrying out the work (small world eh). He was only 47 then. When did you start cycling and what was your first club? First bike I owned I bought when I was 16 and always had a bike since then but never got serious until joining Seamons 4 years ago. What was your first race? Club 10 in April 2003. Got it completely wrong and was averaging 27mph 2 miles in (I don’t even do that now!). Finished with a 27:02. We live – we learn. What was your first win? Win? I should be so lucky. Have been in the winning team a few times at various events. Which performance do you rate as your best? Last year’s Janus RC 25. I did 1:00:30 and couldn’t have gone a second faster that day. What is your favourite meal? Egg and chips, white bread and butter and two big cups of tea. What were you like at school? Very quiet. Not academic and certainly not sporty. What kind of books do you read? Don’t really but when I do it will be a biography or something factual – never fiction. What kind of music do you enjoy? Obviously depends on the mood but do like the Floyd and Genesis. Was into some seriously dodgy stuff when I was younger and even went to see Wham on their “Fantastic” tour! And your favourite TV programmes? Sara thinks I’m sad but again factual stuff. History channel and Discovery channel are favourites. Oh – and topless darts is a bit of a fave too. Which newspaper do you read? Newspaper? No – get my news from t’internet. If I do get a paper it’s The Independent. What’s your ideal holiday destination? Love cycling in the sun in Majorca or France but the Caribbean Islands take some beating as a holiday destination in my book. Antigua is a particular favourite. I just love their laid back approach to every-thing. It’s like – chill out, and when you’re finished, chill out some more. Do you have any hobbies? Cooking, gym, squash, hill walking, travel, home cinema. Who would play you in a film of your life? I hate this question. Really have no idea at all. What is your greatest fear? Heights. How would you describe yourself in a lonely hearts ad? Short, fat, bald bloke seeks adventurous, gor-geous, leggy blonde for a bit of how’s y’father. No strings. Apply with recent photo. What is your favourite training ride? Buxton with the half-dayers. What is your most unpleasant characteristic? Sara tells me it’s grumpiness. Which characteristic do you most dislike in others? People with a chip on their shoulder who think the world owes them something. Who would you have most like to have met, and why? I think Richard Dawkins (author of The Blind Watchmaker, The Selfish Gene and more recently The GOD Delusion) is fascinating. Could listen for hours to his thoughts on evolution, science and religion. What was your most embarrassing moment? When I left school and started work I decided I was going to go to a proper hairdresser's like my new work mates. I plucked up the courage to go in and ask for an appointment. There I was, 15 years old and a nervous wreck. Just be cool and act like you’ve done this a million times before – all you need to do is ask for a cut and blow dry - simple. I opened the salon door and walked in…“Can I make an appointment for a cut and blow job please”…. “Blow dry” corrected the smiling girl behind the counter. Four words to describe yourself? Can cook, won't cook.

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BEST CLUBMAN 2007 At the end of July a familiar pattern was emerging, with four main contenders. The usual suspects are Reg Blease, Phil Holden, Mike McConville and Peter Coles. Club run attendances have reflected the ups and downs of the weather; April must have been one of the best months ever, with an average of 36 on runs every Sunday and 45 out for two weeks on the trot. Leading contenders are: 1. Reg Blease 159 2. Mike McConville 156 3. Phil Holden 153 4. Peter Coles 151 5. Keith Bailey 122 6. John Coles 115 7. Keith Stacey 114 8. Gordon Peake 109 9. Ian Udall 107 Dave Barker 107 10. Dan Snape 99 11. Tim Seddon 97 12. Roy Myers 93 13. Jim Boydell 92 14. Allan Blackburn 88 15. Malc McAllister 87

How do they do that? Have you ever wondered as you watched the Tour de France on those opening flat stages when the sprinters' teams control the race, just how they get their timing so well? The hapless escapees (tête de la course) seem to have it sown up with minutes in hand and then with about 30 Km to go it starts to erode. Slowly but surely the gap comes down and about 5 Km from the finish they are swallowed up and spat out the back to finish dejected with their thoughts of glory obliterated. It's inevitable, we all know that, but there is always that sneaking suspi-cion that one day the peloton will get it wrong and fail in the last few hundred metres. Could the same be said of the touring section? Well, in our diverse ranks we have a member who seems to have the same imbued sense of timing and it never seems to falter. The quarry, obviously, is not some breakaway group, oh no, it's much more important than that. And it's happened too many times for it to be a coincidence. Take Sun-day, July 29th and the run to Whitmore. We leave Altrincham and head out via Radnor Bank to Al-sager. Then on to Audley and up Alsagers Bank. This is quite a climb and on this beautifully clear day the views are wonderful. A 270 degree arc takes in The Wrekin, the Welsh mountains, Peck-forton & Beeston, Kelsall & Delamere and round to Winter Hill. We stay admiring the view for perhaps longer than we should and there are still quite a few miles to go. The pace now quickens largely because one member has appeared at the front. There's no stopping now and as we head past Keele University it's pretty obvious he's on a mis-sion again and a gap opens. Not only that, it doesn't come down as we up the pace. I put it in the big ring and the 13 and with Gordon on my wheel we pick up 'New Mike' as we hammer down the drop to Whitmore. We catch him as we swing into the car park at the pub just in time to see him look at his watch. "Perfect" he says "Exactly twelve o'clock." And with that President Reg pushes open the door of the pub and is first in the queue.

The Two Mills run

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TransScotland May 27th 2007, summary article A massed throng of 250 endurance mountain bikers converged on the small Scottish border town of Selkirk for the start of Britain’s toughest mountain bike race, the Chain Reaction Cycles TransS-cotland. Taking its cues from the epic Trans-Alps and Trans-Rockies point-to-point races that cross the Alps and the Canadian Rockies, the TransScotland mixes seven (daily) non-competitive linking stages, varying from 55km to 85km in distance, together with a selection of special stages on the cream of Scotland’s purpose built singletrack trail centres: Glentress, Dalbeattie, Mabie and Drum-lanrig saw competitors tackling rally style time trials in solo or pair teams, both during the day and at night. Coming from as far afield as Hong Kong, Belgium, Sweden, Italy, Germany, Portugal, Spain and the United States, the event has seen a blend of both new to the cause recruits and repeat offenders back for seconds after the Merida TransWales (see chain reaction website for a more details of the event).

Picture by Jon Brooke - rightplacerighttime.co.uk & sleepmonsters) After tackling the TransWales event last year in the team format Dan Mathers (pictured right above, no.262 with mascot ‘Animal’ from the Muppets, with friends Jack, Paul and Richard) de-cided to solo this years event: “It was good fun last year, tough but worthwhile as I met lots of interesting folk, we finished 17th overall but I feel more competitive this year and hope for a top 10 finish as a solo rider. I have several friends who are also competing and it will be good preparation for the Mountain Mayhem 24 hours mountain bike race 3 weeks later.”

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The first day’s stage (Sunday) took the riders out from Selkirk to wind, haul and grunt their way to Moffat, all 76km and 2,100m of climbing away. Facing them lay a not-insignificant hunk of typically Scottish border coun-try with three progressively tougher major climbs and a heady mix of drizzle and side of blue sky and sunshine to finish. On Monday the second linking stage from Moffat to Drumlanrig was followed in the afternoon by the first special stage on Drumlanrig’s wooded single-track, after which the races pecking order begun to take shape and the race began to fire on all cylinders.

(Picture by Jon Brooke - rightplacerighttime.co.uk & sleepmonsters) The overall TransScotland 07 Champions were to be decided by the special stages only: run at various purpose built trail centres as either pair or relay time trials, with one night time team time trial. The winners of the inaugural TransScotland challenge will be those to complete all four spe-cial stages in the shortest cumulative time. The second linking stage took riders to the beautiful grounds of Drumlanrig Castle ready and rar-ing for the first special stage / time trial on some super root infested singletracks. The first competi-tive day of the TransScotland bloomed strong under a blue fluffy sky in much welcome contrast to the first day in Selkirk. 45km of fine single malt Scottish wilderness lay between the riders and their singletrack sugar. Set against the background of the impressive Drumlanrig castle, the riders

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then went off at 30 second intervals from the Chain Reaction Cycles start ramp to launch flat out through the High5 arch and out onto the course. After a brief fire road climb the singletrack began in predatory manner and jumped the riders from the summit of the climb. Snaking downwards the trails spun a web of singletrack seduction that lasted and became more and more acute as the lap wore on. Dan had a great result and came in 5th place around 2 minutes behind the leaders. Day three dawned (Tuesday), Drumlanrig to Dalbeattie, under the towering eminence of Drumlan-rig Castle for the start of the longest linking stage, all 107km and 2,000m of climbing, of the entire TransScotland. The stage would take the riders from the beautiful Drumlanrig Castle to Dalbeatie, via the roller coaster trails of Ae Forest and through some epic big country with on-going rock-strewn descents.

(Picture by Jon Brooke - rightplacerighttime.co.uk & sleepmonsters) Then Special Stage Two (Wednesday), Dalbeattie Forest Time Trial, Total distance: 15km, Climbing: 800m. The rocky trails suited Dan’s style as he came in 4th place in around 41 minutes. Following the blood and guts efforts of the time trial, the linking stage itself was a more leisurely affair. Retracing part of the singletrack em-ployed for the special stage, the route then hit the coast road to run parallel with the picturesque Mersehead Sands before diving on to the dirt once more to trav-erse the flanks of Boreland Hill and Meikle Hard Hill up to a height of 300m. The trail then descended for five kms before it headed upwards on a severe gradi-ent up a gravel climb. But then the pay off: a snaking, natural and constantly ac-celerating wooded single-track descent that spat rid-ers through mossy boulder slots, weaving through

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purple bloomed rhododendrons, and rushing headlong into New Abbey and it’s fine selection of public houses. Following a blustery and wet night under canvas, the riders awoke to the prospect of yet another day (Thursday) beginning with a solo or for the lucky ones a team relay special stage and then a full-bodied linking stage. The day’s itinerary saw the riders first tackling the bermalicious fast singletrack of Mabie forest in relay, then a progressively more physical linking stage from New Abbey to Moffat, via Ae Forest for more much-welcomed singletrack distractions before the final grunt to 280m and an easy spin home to complete the 65km stage. But for some, that easy spin home was very much a long way away as they gridded up first thing for the third and crucial spe-cial stage. Although not favouring himself on the wet rooty descent, Dan still managed to post a 5th place.

The penultimate day of the TransScotland kicked off from Moffat on Friday at 9am. Heading out into the big country once more, the link-ing stage took the riders 62km to Glentress, together with 2,000m of climbing to wring out yet more ounces of energy from their battle-worn legs. It was a day that would be both testing and rewarding as epic open country riding and trails of the highest calibre gave back for all the gravity dues paid on the four major climbs and portages. Dan nearly paid for his easy morning, as he had to put in some serious efforts to avoid missing the 6 hour cut off by just 5 minutes. But come the end of the day, things were still not done: there was the question of the final and deciding special stage to consider. And that itself would be a truly special night time affair. A little out of control on missed turn and at one point narrowly missing a marshall as he ploughed through the marking tape, Dan came home in a credible 8th place on the night stage.

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The final day of the TransScotland brought Britain’s toughest mountain bike challenge full circle and home to Selkirk after seven full days in the saddle and almost 498km (310 miles) and 14,100m of climbing (46,300ft). The final linking stage from Glentress to Selkirk was one to truly savour. Dan clocked a time of 47hours 23 minutes and 36 seconds for the 7 day race and “..even caught the sun along with a few midge bites but my mascot ‘Animal’ went missing from the event celebra-tions at the Selkirk rugby club”. The final result saw him finish in 4th place in the Solo category and 8th place overall, counting the teams. A great result and the only non sponsored rider in the top 10!!! Final Overall Standings in the Scottish Tourism Men’s Solo Open Category

Dan’s overall result including standings against teams was 8th place. Overall team winners: Ryan Bevis & Jonathan Pugh (RAM Bikes/Scott UK): 47:12:23 Try this setup for the winter, the green way of training.

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Club 100 in 8 April 29th What a way to finish a gloriously dry and sunny month. Maybe the ‘Global warming’ will get us all in the end but there will be many, cyclists to the fore, who have put that to the back of their mind as they basked in one of the most cycling friendly spring-times in memory. And to finish April off, what better way than to take to the roads of Cheshire in the club’s 0ne hundred mile reliability ride. It’s a great route, remarkably traffic free, and with the trees in foliage, the hedgerow cow- parsley in full bloom and the smell of rape in the air we can forget about all the debris thrown from passing cars that lie now hidden from view. What is it about the British that makes them think of our glorious countryside as being a perfectly acceptable rubbish dump? Still, enough of that as we are at the start of the summer and the winter will come soon enough. Today we are off for a splendid ride and the first decision has to be made at Rack-hams. With fourteen to start, and some widely differing abilities, we split into two groups. One group (seven) already has some big rides in at a good speed and set off leaving the rest of us to start our biggest ride of the year at a more conservative pace. We don’t expect to see them again, well maybe at Tattenhall briefly, but by the time we reach the foot-bridge over the Bollin at The Swan with Two Nicks we’ve already ‘concertinered’ three times. The climb from there however sees us separate for good on the road –well almost! At Arthill we come across Darren Buckley at the side of the road and a rapidly disappearing group just up the road. It’s soon obvious why. His rear mech. hangs forlornly in the air but still attached to its hanger. Unfortunately, the hanger isn’t attached to the frame. There’s nothing we can do and Darren is already on his mobile to arrange for a pick-up so, with a sympathetic wave we are off once again. As this ride is regularly scheduled for the same weekend in the year we always end up climb-

ing Acton Bridge to the cheers (dream on) of the massed crowds out to see the elite ladies’ road race promoted by the Weaver Valley. This year though we actually have someone to cheer as Louise Eden is competing and hoping for a good ride. Carole Pardoe and Cath Schofield are insistent that we wait to give her a cheer, as promised, but President Reg is concerned about the loss of time and at 75 years of age decides to ‘potter on’. We don’t catch him up until lunch at Tattenhall. Some potter. We weren’t hanging about either as we rolled on through Norley, Delamere, Ashton, Kelsall, Oscroft (we did shout ‘hello’ as we passed your front door, Dave) and on to lunch. The Ice Cream Farm was heaving. Young families, cars, cyclists all milling about in the yard but such is the efficiency of the staff there, within minutes you are sat down and your meal is before you. As we thought, the other group was well into their break and it wasn’t until they left that I spotted Chris Siepen and Dave Fox, ex-members both, lurk-ing in the background. A brief chat and they were off leaving us in the company of Clive Rock out for a ride on his own. Emerging blinking into the sunshine it’s a surprise to see Roger and Sian sat outside dressed in cycling gear. Sian hasn’t been out for months with the club so some secret training must have been taking place. Well, no. They’d come out in the van and were off for a ride in the traffic free lanes and who could blame them. The next part of the route was all new to me. Although familiar with all the places individu-ally, I’d not put them all together in this order. Up through Burwardsley, a huge exhilarating descent and then up again through Harthill found poor Cath cursing the expression ‘flat Cheshire’. Strange place, Harthill; on a beauti-ful day like today with views to the distant Welsh mountains in one direction and back over the Cheshire plain and beyond in the other, the warm sandstone of some buildings tells you precisely where you are. But some of the other substantial roadside edifices are of a

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sterner, grey stone and on a bleak winter’s day the feeling is more akin to a Peak District village. On to Chomondeley, though we didn’t see the castle, and across the A49 to Wrenbury and a quintessentially English scene with the old black & white drawbridge over the Shrop-shire Union Canal and the old pub that no doubt served the needs of the bargees in days long gone. Today it no doubt caters for the leisure trade and seemed to be doing well in the warm sunshine. Despite the sight of many pints being consumed neither Gordon nor Mike weakened as we headed for Audlem. A group decision saw us pressing on through this delightful little village, despite the cyclist friendly café, and heading for Hankelow, Hun-sterson and Bridgemere. It was here that Dave Barker made a tactical mistake. Outlining the next part of the route he inadvertently men-tioned the word ‘Wrinehill’. “What” said an anguished voice from the back, “Please tell me it’s not really a hill.” Cath was in need of some reassurance and it came in the form of “Well, er, not really, it’s, er, sort of ……er” and it just trailed off leaving Cath remember-ing that the last place with ‘hill’ in it was Harthill. Nuff said. The three ‘B’s’ came next, Betley, Balterley and Barthomley before we rolled into Radway Green at 3.00pm. We’d covered just over 70 miles from Altrincham, which meant the Carol, Cath and I had already covered well over 80. Ah, afternoon tea! It’s many years since I was on a clubrun that included the pleasure of an afternoon tea stop. We made the most of it with variations on the apple pie, cake, cream and ice cream menu, all washed down with lots of tea. All seven of us were still together as we started the final leg through Alsager, Rode Heath and up to Brownlow. The head-wind we had been expecting ever since lunch never really materialised and we made good progress to Somerford. Sweeping down Rad-nor Bank and up the other side, I waited for Mike, Dave and Gordon to appear at my side but my euphoria at finding myself alone at the

top was shortlived as first Carol and then Cath climbed up. Something was obviously amiss and I’d no option but to ride back down to find Dave with his bike upside down. The only puncture of the day repaired we climbed up to Somerford Booths and from there back to Mobberley the miles flashed by at evens. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see Reg neatly tucked in and twiddling away. What a remarkable guy he is and what a privilege to have him as President. Approaching Mobber-ley my magic ‘100’ came up on the computer with some 14 miles yet to go and as I swung right, the others took a left towards Ashley. It had been a great day out, fine countryside, fine weather and fine company and no doubt

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Mike Brooks, Gordon Peake and Jim Boydell prepare to leave Tattenhall on the 100 in 8

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It’s early on Saturday 7th July and for Sara and I the start of a well earned 2 week holiday in France coupled with some serious training for my “12”, some alpine climbs and the odd Tour stage. Who could ask for more than that! As we all know the weather in England over the previous weeks (months?) had not been very inspiring. The forecast for today in Lon-don, and the prologue though was great – hot and dry. With car packed the plan was to drive down to Sevenoaks, where I’d booked a hotel for that night, then get a train into London to watch the prologue. All went smoothly and before we knew it we were walking across Westminster Bridge towards the cordoned off roads of central London. The atmosphere was superb and we arrived just in time for the start of the caravan. Sara had to rugby tackle the odd small child to the floor in order to get hold of the caravan tat – happy times.

Pretty soon the main event had started – the prologue. Each rider was led out by a couple of motor bikes, then the rider themselves, then the team car, then another motorbike or so following up – all very exciting. In the end our man (Bradley) got pushed out of the top three as we know but after everything that’s hap-pened since you do have to wonder where he’d have finished in a clean prologue!! The next morning it was under the channel and into France. The weather on the way down was glorious – continuing the theme from London the day before. We were travel-ling as far down as Autun today near where Sara’s sister (Sue) has a house. The plan is to stay and ride from there for a few days, see the Tour stage into Autun on the Thursday then down to the Alps on the Friday. We bought L’Equipe on the way, which was full of the

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previous day’s activities in London of course. Was astounded to see that Sara and I were in one of the pictures! Arrived at Sue’s house at about 7 that night by which time of course the weather had descended into something like we were more used to at home – cold and wet. I woke up the next day – the first real day of my holiday – with an absolute stinker of a cold. I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t had a cold in ages and the first day of a two week cycling holiday it hits me full on – what are the

chances? Then to add insult to injury it was cold and wet outside. Here we were in the middle of France and I’ve got a cold and it’s pouring down – this isn’t how I’d imagined it. Sod this I thought – I’m going out on my bike and that’s it. The Tuesday was just as bad and we ended up doing about 70 miles in rain in the first two days. Have to say though we did make the most of it and actually had quite good fun with myself and Doug (Sue’s husband) sprinting for the village signs. The forecast was looking up though and by the Wednesday the rain had stopped and the sun was peeping through –

didn’t even need leg and arm warmers – bril-liant! We’d planned to meet up with Nick and Sophie Wood who, by a bizarre coincidence, were also staying near Autun. With a peloton of 6 riders we set off on what was probably the more challenging ride of the week taking in a couple of local hills (big hills mind). The riding was relaxed with plenty of stop offs to sample the local coffee and pastries. By this time myself and Doug had called a truce on the sign sprints. Coming up to a village at the top of a long climb (we’d all stayed together) I

got up behind Sara from the back of the group and gave her a big push towards the sign. I thought the other girls would be caught napping but quick as a flash Sophie and Sue in-stinctively got out of the saddle and gave chase when they saw what Sara was doing. It was too late though and Sara just pipped them although we may need a photo on the line to resolve that one. The following day we

headed into Autun for the Tour stage. By this time the weather was back to what you’d ex-pect in France in the middle of summer and we were already complaining it was too hot. Of course we’d had no idea of all the crashes that had gone on during the stage but soon had a big clue when the riders started coming in (well strung out) with blood, cuts and grazes everywhere. Poor old Mark Cavendish came limping through on his own almost at the very back and his face told a thousand words. I really felt for the lad.

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A fog of collective confusion descended on the touring section as we dithered around Rackhams. The runs list said it was the day for the 100 in 8 but as we looked and waited and looked again for our normally-prompt runs leader, we realised that a) he wasn't coming and b) none of us actually knew the route. We all thought we knew parts of it and we all felt we might be able to give it a fair old stab. But none of us could face the prospect – or the responsibility – of an eight-hour trundle around Cheshire only to find we'd clocked up 98 miles by missing off a bit somewhere near Audlem or something. There was only one thing for it – Chester. Everyone knows the way to Chester. Sadly, we'd all forgotten we were in the touring section. Even that most familiar and popular of routes caused a bit of kerfuffle as there were what can only be de-scribed as "opinions" as to the best way to get there and back. In the end we all made it to-gether but on the way back – and in the face of some horrendous downpours – the fragmenta-tion set in somewhere near the Motor Mu-seum. Ho-hum – no runs leader, same old shambles! In a break with tradition, the annual pilgrim-age to York passed off without incident. No-one fell off their bikes (well, not badly at any rate), there were no shower-room slips, broken limbs or urgent medical requirements. Instead we managed to get out on our bikes (a bit) and enjoy the pleasures of new roads as yet unridden by the Seamons. We even man-aged to organise our various excursions well enough to ensure we could have a leisurely browse around the tents. The Peakes rustled up a fantastic champagne breakfast on the Sunday and even that was timed so that we were able to make the parade in time. It was all too much to take really and by Monday we were clearly pushing our luck. Rainfall in the night didn't look like it was going to clear up

so the proposed ride was sacked in favour of an early dart back to this side of the Pennines. Good job too. We didn't know it at the time but that was the Monday when the summer floods started, with Hull the first and worst affected in June. If we'd have been true to our touring hard men credentials and braved the weather we'd have been on Sky News in boats by the afternoon! The Tour of the Berwyns may seem a long time ago now but it is not likely to be lost from the memory of Rob Morton. This tough-guy veteran of at least three 24-hours and one touring section trip to Spain said it was one of the hardest rides he'd done. In the café at Cor-wen, not even half-way round, his early bid to stay with a fast group had left him decidedly the worse for wear. Just how bad was it? "I was nearly crying on that back road," he said. Gives you a great sense of achievement know-ing that you've completed a ride that has made a grown man nearly cry. Yours truly was himself left nearly crying after a still unexplained crash while out for an afternoon's potter. One minute I was riding along somewhere near Lymm (I still can't remember where), the next I was on the dirt. Many thanks to Gordon and Karen for finding me and helping Mrs C get me back home, and to everyone who took time out to ask after me. Much appreciated. I've never been a helmet advocate and I'm not about to start now but I have no doubt that without my crash-hat I would have definitely needed something quicker than Gordo's car to find me. Typically, of course, the following day I was less both-ered about my written-off helmet, the what-could-have-been, the mild concussion and the short-term memory loss than I was about the two tiny holes in my brand new rain jacket. And those shorts were only four years old.

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Friday morning and we say our goodbyes to Sue and Doug and head down to the Alps. My cold has all but dissipated by now but poor old Sara of course is just starting with it. The first night we decide to treat ourselves to a meal in the restaurant rather than trying to get the camping stove going. Our camp site is right at the foot of Alp d’Huez. You literally ride off the site and onto the very first bend of the climb. So on Saturday that’s exactly what we did. We’ve done Alp d’Huez before but you do forget just how steep some sections are. I quickly realised that although I had lower gearing than last year (39/27) it still wasn’t going to be low enough for the week ahead. The next day we de-cided to do what Johnny and Carol call their rest day – a ride from Bourg d’Oison to Berard. It’s a ride through a valley with the mountains tow-ering up on both sides. The scenery is breath-taking and the road is almost traffic free. As soon as you get into the valley you start a gentle climb so I decide to whip off the helmet. This was just a ride to enjoy – no pressure and no need for flying along. I kept stopping to get photos of Sara with the mountains in the background. About 7 miles into the ride we hit a small descent. No need to put the helmet on as we’ll be climbing again in no time. As I’m descend-ing I see a van pull up to a junction on the right ahead of me. Didn’t really think anything of it until it started to pull out – then stop – then pull out some more. It was turning left so was completely blocking the road in front of me. By this time I was breaking but I was

(Continued from page 16) going too fast and my wheels were locking up and I was doing my best impression of a crab on a bike. It’s funny how at times like this your senses become super active and you can take in lots of information. The van was one of those low loaders with a hard metal – flat sided back on it – just about head height with me on the bike. I knew I didn’t want to hit that. My other option was to dart across the other side of the road – but there was a car coming the other way which is why the van had stopped. I didn’t want to hit that. My only option was to hit the front of the va…. BANG! Sara screaming in the background. In my mind I thought – “Well that’s my cycling holiday

over with then”. I lay there for about a second before realising that I hadn’t actually broken anything – my head was bleeding, I had little scratches and grazes all over and I had a very sore right leg but nothing broken. I’d been VERY lucky. Then there were people all around me trying to pick me up. No no no no – I’ll get up myself. The bike had taken a big hit and the control levers needed sorting. Apart from that it was rideable though – great! We exchanged some details and were on our way again.

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Now remember this is supposed to be a rest day ride. Sara pointed up at a road on a moun-tain side up ahead of us – “We’re not going up there are we?”. “No of course not”, I said. In reality I’d realised that the only road for miles around was the one we were taking and in fact we were going up there. On we climbed up to St Christophe where we stopped for some lunch. We had a rethink about carrying on given the accident but decided if we’ve come this far we may as well go all the way. More climbing after lunch on what looked to the eye like a down hill – really weird. I’d sussed it was all uphill but Sara was convinced it was flat/downhill and that she was going slow because she was bonking and she’d never make it home. In reality all we had to do was get to Berard and then it was virtually down-hill all the way home. Stopped again for cake and coffee at Berard. This turned out to be one of the favourite rides of the week. It’s hard but not a killer like a big col and the scenery is magnificent. You basically follow the river through the valley with mountains towering up on either side. As you climb you can look over to the glaciers on the mountains on the other side of the valley as they purge their melting snow down into long narrow waterfalls run-ning the whole height of the mountain. The next day was a bit of a disaster. The plan was to drive over the top of Galibier, park over the other side, ride down the rest of Gali-bier to the bottom then up to the top then down to the car again. The Tour was going over the Galibier the following day though and what we hadn’t counted on was the army of vehicles, other riders, walkers and fans in general on the mountain side that day (today was a rest day on the Tour) – it was mayhem. We did about half the climb then gave up with the intention of returning later in the week. We also abandoned the idea of trying to get back to the Galibier to see the Tour the next day. Tuesday was spent resting and sightseeing.

Wednesday we did Col du Glandon and Col de la Croix de Fer. You get to the top of the Glandon and it’s only another 2.5k to the top of the Croix de Fer so you can bag two for the price of one! For the first time since being in the Alps we saw the clouds gathering and we even had to add a layer in the cafe at the top. Still no rain though. On the way down we stopped in a village at the Crepery. A tough ride really but rewarding all the same. That night the Pardoes arrived on camp so we all went out to a restaurant in Bourg d’Oison for a treat. The next day Johnny and Carol led us up to the Col D’Ornon and then on to the Villard Raymond. From there you can see over the valley to Alpe d’Huez and see the whole of the road winding up to Huez. Stun-ning scenery. Our last day – Friday was our appointment with the Galibier again. We set off early(ish) and headed off in the car. Galibier was proba-bly the hardest climb of the week (from the Valloire side of course) but as anyone who has done it will know the rewards in terms of landscape scenery with its jagged edged mountaintops and vast barren slopes are well worth it. It’s also one of the more popular “Tour” climbs and it’s great to know that you’re suffering the same punishment our sports greatest heroes have suffered in the past. The 360o views from the top are the stuff of picture postcards and I don’t know if it’s just me but you feel all the more deserving of the view when you’ve pushed every pedal stroke. The views of the mountains of the Alps from that vantage point are just breathtaking. This was Friday and although I knew I was back at work on Monday, at that moment it could have been a million years away. It does-n’t get much better than that.

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The Longest Day of the Year Most people would say that the longest day of the year was June 21st but if you ask Phil Hol-den, Mike McConville or Rob Morton they would probably say it was July 21st. The day started at about 1:30 p.m. and ended at about 1:30 p.m. on July 22nd. It was the day that they rode the Mersey Roads 24hr Champion-ship. This year was the first time I’ve ever seen it. I had heard about it and thought it must be tough but you have to see it to get any idea of how tough and, I guess, you have to ride it to really know. The fifteen minutes before the start were a

very anxious time. It was cloudy one minute and sunny the next. Clothes were put on and then taken off. Layers were added then re-moved. Drinks, snacks and energy bars were chosen and then swapped. Creams were ap-plied to sensitive points of contact in anticipa-tion of the hammering those bits were to re-ceive. As the start times got closer all that had to stop. The three Seamons riders were off and, even though there were in total 81 riders, they were each on their own for the next 24 hours. Mike Brookes and I went inside for refreshments. It was down to the riders now. If you cast your mind back, the 2 weeks lead-ing up to the event were dominated by rain, rain and more rain. Fortunately it eased off the day before the event but the after-effects of the rain were still felt. Part of the planned

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course was unusable because of vehicles stuck in floodwater and blocking the road. As it turned out the showers in the afternoon and evening were not too heavy but a couple of downpours did persuade a lot of riders to stop and put on capes. The first few hours went by pretty smoothly but Rob was not looking too comfortable. Unknown to us, he was carrying an injury to a muscle or tendon at the back of his right knee. He stopped to lower his saddle a little and then carried on. Mike came in for a change of bottles and got straight out again. Phil was ignoring everyone and just ploughed on. Mike Brookes and I parked up at points on the route and just waited for the riders to pass by and say what they wanted – food, drink, clothes, sleep. Mike (McConville) was sticking to ‘Go’ energy drinks. Rob was using some fluo-rescent blue liquid that looked as if it had come out of a laboratory. Weeks later, Dave Matthews told me that he works in food proc-essing and blue is the colour used to indicate contamination as it is the only colour that doesn’t occur naturally in any food. I never saw Phil eat or drink anything for the first 15 hours although he must have done. In the early evening, Beth and Elliot McCon-ville arrived in a very heavily-laden car. By now Alan Rydout and the freshly-honeymooned Mr & Mrs Buckley had arrived. We took over a lay-by and all helped unload the car. Elliott set a seat up and then started his own 24 hour challenge. By coincidence it was the day that ‘Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows’ was released and Elliott was already well over 100 pages into the book. There wasn’t a peep out of him until the bacon rolls were ready. There still wasn’t a peep – more like a growl. No sooner were they ready though than they were gone, and Beth had to start over again. We’d forgotten about the riders. As the next batch were getting close to ready, we got news that the course was being altered so Mike, who was ready for his first ‘real food’ wouldn’t be coming back this way

for it. Everything was piled into cars. Being a rush job and seeing as the sausages were half cooked, the stove roasting hot and the kettle boiling, the whole apparatus had to be spread over 3 cars. We set off to find a new location. After numerous phone calls and some ma-noeuvres that you wouldn’t use on your driv-ing test, we managed to assemble ourselves and the equipment in another lay-by. Here, we caused many a cyclist’s head to turn, many a nose to twitch, and many a handlebar to be covered in saliva as they went past us sniffing enviously at the smoking barbacue. At last Mike managed to get in for supper – sausage baps, rice pudding and tea. It was getting chilly so he also changed into his night clothes (and I don’t mean pyjamas). It was also get-ting dark and I was tired so I headed home to get some rest. Yes, I admit it; just watching these riders had exhausted me. I freshened up, warmed up and rested up at

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home until about 2:30 a.m. and then headed back to the course. I was shocked when I got there. It was a very desolate place at night. There were of course few vehicles and there were much fewer supporters than during the day. I obviously hadn’t been the only one who was feeling done-in. Most riders, includ-ing our three Seamons riders were still going though. I found Alan by a roundabout at Epse Island. There was a trailer providing free tea, chocolate bars and family-sized egg custard pies to riders. The egg custards were going down well with all the riders, not least Mike and Rob. There was still no sign of Phil eat-ing anything. Everyone was looking tired but the most painful part for me was watching riders getting on and off their bikes. I could sense the bones, ligaments, tendons and mus-cles being moved in ways that they had been told not to move in the previous 14 hours. Next year there should be a crane lift to get riders on and off without the need for so much bending of hips and raising of legs. As dawn broke, the course changed again and

we moved the cars back to the main Prees roundabout. There was a tent providing more egg custard pies. The Seamons team were really getting a taste for them now and were wolfing them down two at a time. I really think this is what kept them going. The only reason for going out on another circuit must be to get back and have another couple of pies. At 8:00 a.m. the final course change hap-pened. The riders were directed off towards the final circuit, about 2 hours riding away. I had thought this would be an easier circuit but couldn’t have been more wrong. The final circuit was the hilliest, with a rise on it that I wouldn’t have liked after a couple of hours in the saddle on a normal Sunday ride, let alone after 18 hours. Even the strongest of riders, who had looked in good form until then, were in agony crawling up that hill. Strangely enough, Phil, who doesn’t particularly like hills, came strong and seemed to fly up it. Maybe that was down to the encouragement from Dave Mac’s group and from Ian and Stuart of the half-day group. All three riders

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appreciated the support. At about 11:00, the sun came out at last. Beth and Elliott McConville arrived back to take over and I was released from duties. I didn’t stay for the finish as the traffic was getting a bit chaotic. Three Seamons riders started and three finished, having done between 320 and 345 miles each– a magnificent achievement of determination and strength of character. Physical fitness is only half of it. Well done Phil, Mike and Rob. As a final note, you may like to know what recovery program they all used. Rob was carrying on as normal the next day but found it a little painful going down stairs. Mike was helping Elliott with his paper round (by bike) the next morning. Phil was in hospital having an operation on this shoulder. Unbelievable! Photo’s from Darren Buckley

he arrived home he felt reasonably safe. His wife met him at the door and seemed some-what excited. She exclaimed, "Darling, I have the most wonderful surprise for you for dinner tonight!" She put a blindfold on him, and led him to his chair at the head of the table and made him promise not to peek. At this point he was beginning to feel another one coming on. Just as his wife was about to remove the blindfold, the telephone rang. She again made him promise not to peek until she returned, and away she went to answer the phone. While she was gone, he seized the opportu-nity. He shifted his weight to one leg and let go. It was not only loud, but ripe as a rotten egg. He had a hard time breathing, so he felt for his napkin and fanned the air about him. He had just started to feel better, when another urge came on. He raised his leg and RRIIPPP !!! It sounded like a diesel engine revving, and smelled worse. To keep from gagging, he tried fanning his arms a while, hoping the smell would dissipate. He got an-other urge. This was a real blue ribbon winner, the windows shook, the dishes on the table rattled and a minute later the flowers on the table were dead. With his blindfold still on, when he heard the phone farewells he neatly laid his napkin on his lap and folded his hands on top of it. Smil-ing contentedly, he was the picture of inno-cence when his wife walked in. Apologizing for taking so long, she asked if he had peeked at the dinner table. After assuring her he had not peeked, she removed the blindfold and yelled, "SURPRISE!!!" To his shock and horror, there were twelve dinner guests seated around the table for his surprise birthday party.

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had a terrible passion for baked beans. He loved them, but they always had an embarrassing and somewhat lively reaction on him. One day he met a girl and fell in love. When it became apparent that they would marry, he thought to himself, she'll never go through with the mar-riage with me carrying on like this, so he made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans. Shortly after that they were married. A few months later, on his birthday and on the way home from work, his car broke down. Since they lived in the country, he called his wife and told her that he would be late because he had to walk home. On his way home, he passed a small cafe and the wonderful aroma of baked beans overwhelmed him. Since he still had several miles to walk he figured he could walk off any ill affects before he got home. It was, after all, his birthday. So he went in and ordered, and before leaving had 3 extra large helpings of baked beans. All the way home he putt-putted. By the time

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Social Secretaries Corner

Yes folks, I’ve done it! I’m following in the footsteps of Ry Cooder and Stevie Vai and I’ve sold my soul to the devil (see picture) . So, I’ve reached a crossroads. It’s time to give up being social secretary to follow a career in rock ‘n’ roll! Seriously though, I’ve decided not to stand this year for social secretary at the AGM, it’s time for a ‘new broom’. I would like to thank you all for supporting events like the hot pot, fun ten and so on. Special thanks to Reg for standing in and opening up in my absence. Also, anyone who has washed up over the last few years! There’s no job description for the position so if anybody fancies the role the world’s your whelk! Thank you again for all your support, Roger.

Forthcoming events to look forward to

Fun 8.5 miles- SATURDAY 8th SEPTEMBER

Unfortunately, I won’t be there this time but all the usual fabulous prizes will up for grabs. This year there’s a new trophy for a family group so bring them all along!

Hill Climb- SUNDAY 7th OCTOBER

Dinner at the Ryles Arms, please contact me to book.

Hot Pot- SUNDAY 23rd DECEMBER Special thanks in advance for Vera and Reg for providing the food.

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The word "character" springs to mind when you read this piece about our second clubmate. It also sounds as though it has already been "built". So why did she get so upset about the phrase 'character building' on the Llangollen weekend. Maybe because it was a near 80 mile trip out in to a headwind, then a similar ride back the following day into the rain, - and another headwind that got to her. In a previous life she was a serious tennis player but now she is a regular on the Ladies' Satur-day rides and tours, come rain or shine. For her it has to be a challenge so her first one day clubrun was the '100 in 8'. She also rides the odd Audax and even ventured to ride the Étape in the Pyrenees. Cath Schofield was not happy when pulled out after already climbing both the Marie Blanque and the Aubisque. Glad I wasn't the one who had to tell her..... When and where were you born? Stoke-on-Trent 17/03/1952 When did you start cycling and what was your first club? I’ve always owned a bike and been interested, but only started cycling with any great intent 4 years ago What is your favourite touring area in this country? The Peak District Do you have one abroad? The Alps or Pyrenees as a close second What is your favourite meal? Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding etc. Favourite drink is a cup of tea first thing in the morning served by Carole Pardoe knocking on my tent ‘door’. What were you like at school? Bright, sporty (county hockey & tennis), musical (play flute & piano) but always in trouble What kind of books do you read? Very wide taste, Dickens, Ishi-guro, Auden, political memoirs (politicians are always more interest-ing when they’ve retired), philosophy, and anything to do with cycling What kind of music do you enjoy? Classical music is absolutely central to my life, chamber and piano music especially. I also ‘enjoy’ jazz, Eminem (!) and anything that reminds me of the sixties. And your favourite TV programmes? None any more, 99.9% of television is dross. Which newspaper do you read? I sneak a read of the Independent at work What’s your ideal holiday destination? Anywhere warm, with mountains, the bike and cycling friends Do you have any hobbies? Cycling, playing the piano, I love Art and since breaking my wrist I’ve rediscovered an old hobby – chess. Who would play you in a film of your life? Would have to be somebody with a bit of attitude, Jodie Foster perhaps ? What is your greatest fear? Anything happening to my children. Also being hit by a car whilst out on the bike 4 weeks prior to the Raid Pyrenean……oh that just happened !!!!!!!! How would you describe yourself in a lonely hearts ad? Not lonely so push off !!!! What is your favourite local ride? Pott Shrigley, Brickworks, Wingather Rocks, Goyt Valley, Longnor What is your most unpleasant characteristic? I am a bit impatient What characteristic do you most dislike in others? People who don’t listen Who would you have most like to have met, and why? J S Bach, supreme musical genius What was your most embarrassing moment? Playing in a concert in Chester I went to move my music stand before we started and it fell apart, sheets of music and the stand went flying into the audience. Four words to describe yourself? Up for a challenge

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Cycling madness Seamons CC tour of the Berwyns 206km (1750m climb)- May 19 2007

The excitement got to me and I woke at 4:00am, it was a long wait for John Barry who arrived at 6:30am. We got to Willington Hall for 7:20, John Par-doe, Reg, Ian, Pete Vernon, John Carberry and Carol have already signed on, Steve Booth catches me coming out of the ladies, this sets the tone for the day. 7:50 everyone is almost ready for the mass start, Darren Buckley has just turned up, al-most late and is running round headless trying to sign on, and Johnny P decides it’s time to have a group photo in front of the fountain. The gun got fired as Vicky Booth was chang-ing camera’s, everyone went by as we were all smiling at the lens. It was like the Keystone

Cops chasing after Buster Keaton, everyone grabbing a bike and off after the bunch, may-hem. The race, sorry ride, sorted its self out after 5 minutes, Ian sat on the front me along-

side Steve and Pete just on the wheel and a hole host of Seamons and Audax riders mak-ing up the peleton. It’s a long way to the first check point at the Prospect Tea Rooms so a pee stop was called for at the end of Francis Lane in Holt, no problem for me, so I just walked through the gate and walked down the path on the other side of the A534, expecting everyone else to do the same when they were ready. No chance, myself and Ian are just stood there having a chat and we spot the rest of them heading off down the B5130 as fast as there legs could go. Ian towed me back to the bunch. There are lots of lumps and bumps to get over

Seamons riders at the start of the tour of the Berwyns

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on the way to Pen Y Cae and the peleton soon gets stretched out. Its after Pen Y Cae that you have to go up the first wall of the day, my 39 25 was no where near low enough for the next 300 meters, from near the bottom I watched Ian, Steve and Pete go out of site, a little bit further up and I saw John Barry, Rob Morton and Darren Buckley go over the top and then John Rowlinson came past in a very low gear. No Matter, my short fat hairy legs are feeling great and the tea rooms are not that far away. Across the cattle grid at the entrance and Steve and Pete have had there cards marked and are on there way again. I won’t see them again for a week or so. Ian is just having an energy bar outside, he has decided to enjoy the day but again that’s the last time I see him. Its 10:11 and time for my first can of coke, a very welcome beans on toast and cup of tea and we are off again. Five of us, John Barry, Rob Morton, Darren Buckley, John Rowlinson, and me. The next stretch has got landslide warnings, sheep and gravel all over the road. Darren has a blow out and I suffer my first epic repair stop of the weekend. Twenty minutes passes along with Johnny P, Carol, Reg, and John Carberry. We got lost on the way to Corwen. We missed the turning for Rhewl, and headed for the A5 instead. It only took 1 hour 7 minutes of riding time to do stage 2 but it was now 12:30 and we had just got to Corwen. The café is full, the service is slower than Beeston, so I got my card marked, a can of coke and a mars bar from down the road, and we are off. Rob and John R have decided to slow down, John P, Reg, Carol, and John C, are waiting to be served. Just the 3 of us now, John Barry, Darren and myself, and the shower has stopped. The road undulates, past Llandrillo, the 3 of us are go-ing well, John B did this run last year. Past the Bryntirion Inn where people were encouraging us to stop for lunch. We went straight past. I have never been to this part of the Wales be-fore, and the road looked to go down hill to the right, seemed good to me. I asked John B if that was where we were going, he said yes. I

was mugged Dave Barker (Seamons chief organiser of the day) said no, turn left @ T (sp Llangynog, B4391):_____the Milltirr Cerrig. That road goes up and up and up, John and Darren never got out of site, but there were no trees or bends to block my view, only a wet cattle grid to scar me. I started to cross it at 8 mph finished at 3mph, just made it. Slick tyres and wet metal do not go. John and Darren take a 2 minute breather at the top while I catch up, then its 40mph down hill into the car park at LLANGYNOG where Keith Wilkinson and Peter Coles have water and an encouraging word. Off to the New Inn for a quick bite. John en-quires about how long it will take for baked potatoes etc. 3 minutes is the reply. Great. 25 minutes and one welsh sheep with wellies on, later, lunch appears. I only have 1 pint of coke at this stop. 35 minutes have passed since we checked in and we are back on the bikes, Wilkie says we should enjoy the dog sprint. What is he on about? We soon find out. Just after LLAN-RHAEADR you take a sharp L @ X (sp Maen Gwynedd) and go up hill again. There are 6 barking beasts on the road. Roy Myers knows how to handle these all snapping at your heels. I get pasted, ankles still in tact. There is an oncoming 4 x 4 so I pull to the left and wave the 4 x 4 on, the last beast laid in wait, it’s hiding on the wall. It leaps at me doing its thing, I am pedalling one footed going up hill, 4 x 4 heading towards me, try-ing to kick out at this bloody dog with the other foot. I lost out on my £250 from You’ve Been Framed. No one had a camera. Onwards and upwards, no time to play with the dogs anymore. The other major climb of the day is in front of us now, trials motorbikes are playing going up and down hills on our left. The road is end-lessly rolling up hill, there are several very steep short bits, 10 pedal revolutions gets me up each one, boy that was tough. Then it’s down hill all the way to Chirk, for the first time today we are travelling in the same direc-tion as the river is flowing.

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We stop at the café for more cokes and cake, but no, I have donated £25 to the charity for wayward sheep (lost my money). Darren comes up trumps and loans me £20 from the whole in the wall, coke sales are up again 2 more tins taken on. We made the right choice, it’s about 4:40 and I hear a bit of a report on the other sporting event going on. The FA cup final is a flop its 0 – 0 Rooney is doing noth-ing but swear at the linesman, the game is boring, and I am loving every minute of this Audax challenge. We are off to Bickerton where Dave Barker has hidden the last check in, in a bus stop. We go straight past the crossroads where you should turn right, more extra yards. There are no tins of coke or cake at the bus stop, just Marysia taking photos, but it is only 13.36 miles to summer trees. Dave enquires how it’s going? I tell him I have a smile for every pedal stroke, and a laugh at the bottom of each hill, its been a great ride and there is less than an hour to go. It’s 6:04pm and we are off on the last lap. 126 miles into the ride and the instructions say 11.5 miles R in UTKINTON at Memorial Cross (Quarry Bank, sp Cotebrook, Delamere 11.62 miles L (Tirley Lane, no sp), no men-tion of the fact that this is a 400 meter wall that you have to go up. Its very steep and very slow and I came close to walking up (it would have been quicker), but it’s a ride, so for the last time I gritted my teeth and up I went. The road just rolls up to Summer Trees after that no problem. John and Darren had decided to wait for me at the top, so we could all finish together as we had ridden together all day. Thanks lads. Harvey and Dave Matthews are at Summer Trees next to the sun dial with Mickey and Minnie on it, according to them its 7:01pm, that’s what he signed on my card. And then we listen to the 7:00 o’clock news on the ra-dio. 11 hours to do 128 miles (206Km) 8hours 35 minutes riding at 14.9mph, well worth missing the FA cup final for. United lost cy-clists won. Even enquired about next years application form on the way out of summer

trees. The excitement got to me again on Sunday morning as I woke at 5:00am, looking forward to the ½ day race (sorry club run) to Radway Green. I had nothing better to do than pen this article before 7:30am, there will be no sitting on the front this morning. Just for the record total madness for the week-end was 186.07 miles at 15.9mph which meant I was riding for 11 hours 40 minutes 10seconds approx.

the other group felt exactly the same. It’s what it’s all about. A few facts and figures…. On this most glorious of days the club had four groups out. Over twenty were with the half-day, fourteen did the ‘100’ milers and another eight or so were on the touring section run. Add the others we met on route and we totalled about 45 members out on bikes. Won-derful. I believe that our group’s riding time was between 6h 35m and 6h 40m depending on whose computer you believe and the average speed was about 15mph. The other group were approximately two mph faster which meant of course that we were able to enjoy the day for just that little bit longer!

(Continued from page 14)

The Great English Summer !

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Ladies Coast to Coast Twas in the monsoon month of May. Wet Whitehaven, 10 o’clock in the morning. We did the traditional dipping of the wheels in the sea by the C2C sculpture, but the slipway was slippery and very steep. Some men kindly helped us, otherwise we might have lost our bikes in the sea before we started! Whitehaven was quickly negotiated via the little blue signs that we were to become intimately acquainted with over the next three days. A flat re-surfaced railway path got us ten miles into the countryside, with quiet lanes, and the moun-tains of the Lake District now looming up around us, cloaked in heavy cloud. Ennerdale, Loweswater and Crum-mock Water were our first lakes, then the climbing started. The small lane after High Lorton, parallel to the main Whinlatter road, was STEEP! But none of us was going to be first to get off. With panniers wagging we passed a big group of cyclists on mountain bikes, with rucksacks, all walking. We felt smug. “Hello”, we said cheerily as we ped-alled by, trying not to wag too much. Down the other side and we joined the main Whinlat-ter road to the wonderful Siskins café at the Visitors Centre. A cyclist stopped by the road-side and started some interesting manoeuvres – he was taking his waterproof trousers off, with difficulty. “Can I give you a hand?” said Denise, ever ready to help. It was nice and warm in the café, lots of yummy food, and warm air hand dryers in the toilets. We apologised to the “normals” for hogging (hugging?) the dryers with our bodies and wet clothes. Then off again into the un-known, well, unknown apart from the ex-tremely detailed little book we carried, called “The Ultimate C2C Guide”, with maps of the route on every page, profiles of the hills, lists of cafes etc. Excellent, small, and not heavy! It was a steep drop into Keswick, then dither over the way out. It went through a car park and round the back of the leisure centre – we discovered on the second time round! A very pleasant railway path, now in dappled

sunshine, and flat for a while. Suddenly “lamb alert” was the cry, and Sue and Liz leapt off their bikes and set off across the field to res-cue a lamb with its head stuck in the fence. After a lot of heaving they released it and the lamb scampered off. A pleasant gated lane took us over the side of the hill to Mungrisdale, but we were getting hungry again. “Where’s the next café?” “Over the page”. There was a tempting sign to “Penrith direct” but we ignored it, our principles still quite high at this stage. Grey-stoke, of Tarzan fame, was recommended in The Little Book, and there on cue was a black-board, in the middle of nowhere, “Cyclists’ café, 1 mile.” It was a very long mile, then another blackboard, “Cyclists’ café 300 yards” – Cath thought it said 300 miles…it just seemed like it. Well, it was a pretty cottage garden, and we were shown to the garden seat, but it was a bit cold, and we really wanted to huddle inside. “Would you like a blanket?” the lady said, we clearly were not going to be invited inside. “I’ll have a hot chocolate please.” I really wanted to say hot water bot-tle, but thought I’d better be polite. The wedges of homemade cake were very gener-ous and filling. It was now spitting with rain again so we wrapped up and headed round the back lanes to Penrith, following the route through the college grounds and down a very rough path that I didn’t like at all. And so into Penrith, a very pleasant red sandstone market town, but it was raining seriously now. Where was the B & B? Just round the corner, a comfortable terraced house, warm. We had three rooms of three, two and one. Oh dear. Who will go with whom? “Just throw the keys on the floor”, I said, and we’ll take pot luck. Denise drew the short straw and had the single room at the top of a lot of stairs. I got the big bed for my long legs. We had a great evening meal at the Ital-ian ristorante, where Mary kept ordering more wine, and we kept trying to help her drink it…58 miles. Next morning we were treated to a great breakfast, but it was still raining. Three miles

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up the road I had the first puncture, then an-other, then it was Sue’s turn. Bits of glass and thorns. Sue was our appointed puncture queen, she has strong hands, and Denise was pump mistress and hand cream dispenser. I had a packet of chocolate hobnobs which was our comfort nibbling – but would they last? We married ladies were extolling the virtues of our husbands’ skills in bike fettling, and Liz – young and single – expressed the desire to have a man “tinkering about her house”. “An hour would be long enough,” said Cath, who knows about these things. The route through Renwick to Hartside was beautiful, and it stopped raining. But Cath couldn’t get her foot in the pedal, it was clogged up with mud. We scraped it out, and plodded on to the top of Hartside, 1,903 ft. Then the cloud engulfed us, the rain came down, the wind got up, and we were freezing. A hasty descent took us back into sunshine and more beautiful scenery, whizzing down and down, then turn right to Garrigill. A pretty village, leading to Thortergill Force and an excellent café stop at the forge. Cath decided to take her offending cleat to pieces on the pretty pink table cloth – you can’t take her anywhere - and a kind gentleman at the next table offered his screw-driver. The climb out of Garrigill was so steep we were weaving all over the place, but the view at the top made it worth the effort, and the sun was nearly out. There were curlews and lap-wings everywhere, and violets and primroses in the ditches. The road swooped down steeply to Nenthead, and on the T-junction was an old building with a big sign: “Rest room for the over-60’s”. “I’ve got to stop”, I shouted as the others started up the next hill. As a fledgling sexagenarian I didn’t want to miss out on any perks. Mary came back down to take my photo. We peeped inside. Chairs, a table, ket-tle – no, I mustn’t be tempted, I might not get going again! We regrouped at the Northumberland sign, Black Hill, the highest spot on the C2C, 1,998 ft. and swapped stories with another group of cyclists, who we kept seeing. More fabulous

descending, and sunshine now, afternoon tea in the offing, “over the page”, at Allenheads. A long climb followed to Rookhope, then a long descent to Eastgate, and directions from locals to Rosehill Farm, our B & B for that night. Shock, horror! The drive to the farm reared up and disappeared into the sky. Cath’s words are unrepeatable. She couldn’t get her foot out and was permanently attached to her pedal. Some frisky cows come galloping at us and help speed us up the drive, and we fell into the yard at the top. Two rooms of three tonight, good hot shower, tea and biscuits in our rooms. The beds were a bit high for Cath, she had to sleep on the sofa. 46 miles. The farmer ran us down to the pub for our evening meal. What friendly people in the pub, what an accent! We were persuaded to do the pub quiz over our meal. There in the din-ing room were those cyclists again. They in-sisted on helping us with the quiz. “We may be bum cyclists but we’re good at quizzes.” What is the only word in the English language that ends in “mt”? Answer in the next issue. And guess what? We won! We put the money in the pot for our host who was ferrying us up and down from the farm. Another great breakfast, but outside every-thing was blanked out, the cloud had closed in. Not so far today anyway, and all downhill. Ha-ha! The hill out of Stanhope was 17%, it was a killer. It is called Crawleyside. We called it “Creepy Crawley”. We crawled and crept up and up, into thick fog. We only just saw the sign for the Waskerley Way. It ran parallel to the main road but the fog was so thick we had to hang on to the wheel in front not to lose our way. It was very rough. I punctured, again, and no-one heard me, but Denise was behind so rode on to tell the oth-ers. I was all alone. Rear wheel of course. I managed to get the tyre off by the time they all came back, and they sat down on a rock and demanded hobnobs! A joint effort soon had it fixed, but inner tubes were now at a premium, and the hobnobs had all gone. “Never mind,” I said, “there are 10 cafes along today’s route, according to The Little Book”. Well, the track

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went on and on, over bridges, over roads, up and down, through puddles, through woods, through a park, through groups of walkers, groups of slow cyclists, built up areas, and NO CAFES. My name was mud. Then I saw a KFC. Sue’s face clearly showed this was against principles. Sometimes I don’t have principles. Now we were alongside the river Tyne, on the outskirts of Newcastle. But were we on the right side? Sue said, “it’s flowing the wrong way”. I said “The tide’s coming in”. Then a little blue sign reassured us, and on we went, a fascinating waterfront, and all of a sudden people sitting at tables EATING out-side a pub. We screeched to a halt and piled in, chips, burgers, principles thrown to the wind, just give us food and quick. Another puncture, this time Cath, a time check, it was going to be tight to catch the train. The trail was well signed but covered in glass…Then the sea, this was it, there’s the castle, no time to dip the wheels in the sea this side, now we must find the station. It was the wrong station! It was a metro station, linking up with the main station in Newcastle centre. For those of you of a nervous disposition do not read on. We flung the bikes at Denise, as her husband David was taking them, and Denise, back in his van. We leapt on to the waiting train, and the guard told us the name of the station which would link up with Newcastle Central. Wrong! We saw the escalator he told us to use and ran up it, only to find ourselves out-side in some sort of park. A lady told us we should have got out at Monument, the previ-ous stop. Back down the escalator, fall on to the waiting train. Loudspeaker: “This train will not be stopping at Monument for techni-cal reasons”. WHAT!!! Run back up the escalator and across the grass, hammer on taxi window. Well, Liz did, we hid so that he wouldn’t see how many we were. Thumbs up from Liz so we all piled in and roared across town, pile out, race into crowded station. “The train for Carlisle is now leaving from platform 7”. Fly over bridge, down ramp, nothing. Gone. Look at each other. But

where is Cath? She appears at the top of the ramp looking very pale. She had got on the wrong train! We scoop her up and fall into a café for hot chocolate and bananas. The next train is 6 p.m. We get it, yeah! We are still in cycling gear, including helmets, and a passen-ger asks, quite reasonably, where are your bikes? We don’t care, we subside and doze and chatter and nibble our way to Carlisle. The next train to Whitehaven (where we left Cath’s car) doesn’t leave for another 2 hours and is the slow local train which will take 4 hours. WHAT!!! Taxi time again. Liz nego-tiates the price and we all fall in, I’m going backwards, it’s horrible, 100 m.p.h. I keep my eyes tight shut as we lurch round bends and roar over hills. Whitehaven at last. The cold sea air and drizzle is welcome. Into Cath’s car and down the M6. Midnight and we cruise into Allostock, and there’s a big sign in the garden saying, “C2C WELL DONE GIRLS!” and JP is there, smiling. We did it!

How about this Mono Cycle for low drag?

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Obituary Former Guest of Honour: Norman (Nim) Carline

Nim Carline of the Mor-ley CC passed away at the age of 79 during May of this year. He was proba-bly one of the greatest long dis-tance riders of all time. Dur-ing his illus-trious career he totally destroyed the image of the nimble pedalling long dis-tance man,

such as Nick Carter 460 miles on 79 fixed, and Denis White 484 miles on 82 fixed. By con-trast Nim rode huge gears to good effect, his theory being that all that twiddling would tire him out! He believed in starting fast – com-pletely annihilating the opposition in the first hour – then just hanging on for the rest of the event, be it 12 or 24 hours, and this is exactly what he did many times. In all he won six National Champion-ship 24 hour titles, his best being 496 miles in 1966. He also won the 12 hour championship on two occasions with rides of 258 on a foul day, and 266 miles. Nim being a market gardener was well used to adverse weather conditions, making him a hard man and a tough competitor. He made no secret of the fact that in training for a big event he would ride 600 miles a week for

6 weeks prior to the event, come rain or shine. Nim was our Guest of Honour on two occasions during the 60’s and 70’s. In those days it was customary for many top riders to ride to and from social functions, thus boost-ing early season mileage. I had both the hon-our and privilege of accommodating him on one such occasion at our home in Lymm. I met Nim at the pre-arranged time on the summit of Stanedge Edge, roughly half way from Morley, on a very cold, misty Janu-ary day. Nim appeared out of the gloom, com-plete with flat cap, a very creaky bike, and a large round parcel which protruded 6-8” either side of his already bursting saddle-bag. It eventually transpired that the creaking was the result of a broken rear wheel spindle. The saddle-bag contained his best bib and tucker and shoes for the evening, and the large wide parcel contained enough rhubarb to keep us going for the rest of the winter. The morning after we were to meet the club in Altrincham, who would then escort Nim back to the border via Glossop. However the rear wheel was so bad that he was forced to purchase a replacement from a club mem-ber before setting off from Altrincham. On the way to Glossop we observed another strange sound coming from Nim’s bike. On further inspection it was found to be a cracked seat tube. Luckily the late Mike Newall, a plumber by trade, was out on his work bike and mi-raculously produced a jubilee clip from the depths of his saddle-bag, just large enough to effect a temporary repair, and lasting long enough to get him safely home. Nim had been a great Guest of Hon-our, but on that occasion we were more than glad to see the back of him! I must mention that in 1965, when I rode the National Championship “24”, I had the honour of being caught and passed many times by Nim, and indeed all the great riders of that era. Nim went on to record 485 miles, a new championship record at that time. In the world of long distance time-trialling Nim was a giant amongst men.

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When is a gate not a gate? When it’s a ***! (answer at end of article for the younger reader). So, when are nineteen gates not nineteen gates? When it’s a Seamons clubrun. Actually it may have been nineteen but it probably wasn’t. They may have been gates but probably were-n’t. There were certainly eight riders set out but less than that finished and by common consent of those finishers this is one of the hardest rides on the list. It had all the makings of a beautiful day and the promise was to be borne out. If you are going up in the hills then good weather is a real bonus and the day was to get better and better after a chilly start. Dave B and Gordon P were only out for the morning and were keen to get as much of the proper route in as possible so when we emerged onto the A34 at Nether Alderley they came left with the hardy souls for the cobbled road. The more timid turned right with the inten-tion of meeting up at Gawsworth. Our ‘off-road’ group battled with the cobbles, then the rough tracks before emerging near the church on the Birtles for a swift descent to the Macc-Chelford road. Had we been through any gates yet? Probably, but I certainly hadn’t noticed them. The usual route through Henbury and Pexhill followed and, as planned, there were the others waiting at Gawsworth. On past The Fool’s Nook and Sutton for Langley and the grind up past Trentabank before the road rears up and it’s bottom gears all round for the struggle up Standing Stones. This is a difficult enough climb under any circumstances but when you are being bombarded by hordes of kami-kazi biting

flies then it is near impossible. Most walked, which at least gave you one arm to fight the little swine off. Now followed a glorious switch-back ride through Wildboarclough and a climb out onto the A54 near Blaze Farm. No time for ice cream though as we headed left and upwards towards Buxton. “Right” shouted John Coles and the fun proper was about to start as we turned into the gated road. Here the gates came thick and fast until we finally emerged near the Eagle & Child for the descent into Gradbach and a sharp right at ‘Eddy’s Cottage’. Not named for its occupant nor a former owner but for our own unpredictable member’s intimate contact with the front wall after an erratic descent and ultimately unsuc-cessful attempt to negotiate the corner on a previous ride. No such misfortune today as we all managed to engage our lowest gears for the sudden climb up to Goldstitch Moss. At this point tradition has you heading for Roach End and Paddock Farm but as this has been closed for some time (oh yeh?) we would have to head off to the Axe Edge road, and more uphill, for a pub lunch. Guess who suggested this? Good old Peter Coles. This area is universally known as Royal Cottage and although the old pub that bears this name still has the dilapidated sign at the front it cer-tainly didn’t appear to have welcomed any weary travellers since Bonnie Prince Charlie is alleged to have hidden in the area. So, the Winking Man it is along with a host of car-born Sunday lunch-ers.

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A suggestion. Why can’t people arriving on bikes be given precedence over those who have not arrived under their own steam? After all most of the other diners looked as though they could well have done without food for a week or two and still shown no ill effects. We, on the other hand, needed food and we needed it NOW! There’s a strange ritual in the touring section, so I’ve noticed, regarding desserts (the poncy menu name) or puddings as they are more properly referred to in the group. Every-body looks at the menu, proclaims the strength of will not to have one and then waits for some-one else to weaken. Inevitably one does (isn’t that right Peter C?) and then the dam bursts and you’ll hear “well, since we’ll have to wait, then I might as well…) etc. etc. This was to be no exception, especially when PC took delivery of the most splendid banana split. More eyes bulged and the rest of us resigned ourselves to a delayed start to the afternoon’s delights. This started in orderly fashion with a descent and climb back to the top of Roach End and as we passed through the gate to drop towards Hulme End the order came to turn right. “Where?” said a puzzled Lithuanian John. “There” came the reply, pointing to a barely discernible gap into a field with no obvious

t r a c k across it. “ B u t , there is no ‘there’ “ replied J o h n . W e l l , t h e r e was and down it we went to even-t u a l l y e m e r g e at the top of a r o u g h road that w o u l d take us d o w n p a s t

Swythamley Hall and on to Dane Bridge. The climb from here through Wincle and up to Clew-low Cross is a tough one but part of it can be avoided by taking the ‘Wincle By-Pass’. Any-thing less like a by-pass is difficult to imagine but it certainly gets you round Wincle and con-serves a bit of energy into the bargain. I’d fondly imagined that that was to be the end of the climbing for the day and with a satisfying drop down through Sutton in prospect, spirits were high. No such luck! We headed for Congleton in-stead and then took off to the left for yet more gates, Wincle Minn and a final dilemma. After-noon tea is not usually an option as the de-briefing schedule back at the OMT in Altrin-cham could be affected but today it was tempt-ing. Well, almost. After all the café was only a few short yards off our route – but what a few yards! The prospect of a granny-ring climb back up concentrated minds wonderfully and with the alternative a grand swoop down to the Macc – Leek road there was no contest. Back through Bosley crossroads and after all the changes of direction and places to get lost, it was here that we lost Peters Coles and Devine. Nothing new there then that a clubrun that started with eight would end up with a mere four. It’s a welcome thought that the run home from there is a flat one through North Rode, Marton, Lower With-ington and Bate Mill, but even that short climb takes on a new dimension after a demanding ride. Still, we all kept together for the run back as we reflected on a rare ( for 2007 ) glorious summer day. Were there nineteen gates? Who knows. Who cares. After all that’s not really the point, is it? When is a gate not a gate? Answer – when it’s ‘ajar’ (For those too young to have been told this whiskery joke at their father’s knee, ‘ajar’ is an old fashioned way of saying ‘open’.) Words and Pictures by Jim Boydell PS The Pardoes were in front of us for most of this ride but we didn't know it. They had heard a rumour that Paddock Farm was open again - and so it was. Opening times yet to be con-firmed by the 'Ps' but it confirms the suspicion that they can sniff an open café at several miles.

"There is no there" said John; but as he was to discover - there was!

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The Twelve Hour (‘How To Try Without Really Succeeding’)

Ian Udall There are many people in a club with such an illustrious time-trialling history as Seamons who can give an in depth description of all the strategies you should undertake to do really well in a Twelve Hour. But what appears to be missing are those tips and hints at how to set about a truly mediocre performance, and achieve a remarkably average mileage. With three Twelve Hours under my belt, I hope that it is not too immodest of me to step into this gap and offer my experience and advice to others who may be drawn by the challenge of the West Cheshire.

Firstly, and most importantly, is the plan; don’t. What ever you do, don’t give the Twelve Hour a second thought until the week before. It is just a long ride – a couple of hun-dreds back-to-back, plus a twenty-five, and a round trip to the shops thrown in for good measure. And if you’ve done a hundred, a twenty-five and been to the shops then what is

there to worry about? Save that for the last minute.

The bike. Obviously it’s a cycle race so the equipment is high on the list of priorities. And with modern engineering the choice is wide. Unless you want to be laughed off the course, or mistaken for someone on their way to the shops, the faithful Sturmey-Archer is probably best left in the shed. No, haul out the time trial bike, and drop the tri-bars that bit more. Obviously, you’re out on the road for a long time so a really tight tuck will save even more on aerodynamic drag than could possibly be saved in the fastest club ten.

The other advantage this low tuck has is that it is a really restrictive position. No temp-tation to move about, wasting time by wonder-ing whether to switch to the brake hoods, sit up and admire the rolling Shropshire country-side, or shake your fist at yet another 4x4 with a wayward caravan in tow. No, one position will do for all twelve hours, and the loss of mobility as your lower back goes into muscle spasm will ensure that you stay there.

Clothing. Tweeds are best left with the Sturmey-Archer, but a pair of baggy, white three-quarter length shorts do have the advan-tage of being highly visible from a range of over a mile; it gives the juggernaut’s some-thing to aim at. They also have the advantage that when it rains they soak up to five times their own weight in rainwater. This is a con-siderable advantage when it comes to hydra-tion (see below) and travelling downhill at speed. The other alternative is the skinsuit. Apart from the aerodynamic advantage, it is also fiendishly difficult to answer the call of nature without resorting to a handstand, and, as a consequence, a possible appearance be-fore the Beak. So you’re forced to soldier on with no distractions about finding gaps in hedgerows or being mistaken as suffering a puncture (my thanks to one helper for her rapidly regretted offer of assistance).

Assistance. This has can make or break a Twelve Hour. Obviously the truly heroic would attempt the whole event on a single bottle of Corporation and a bar of Kendal Mint

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cake, but that is the stuff of the pre-Great War cycling marathons; for modern mediocrity assistance will be required. Success is easily avoided by following the five and a half W’s; who, where, what, when, how (the attentive will note a slight liberty in the last) and the final half W; vague. Be entirely vague with your assistants about who will be there, where you expect them to be, what you want them to provide, when you’re likely to be there and how you expect them to pass up your unspeci-fied requirements, and you have cracked one of the great secrets of poor performance.

The one hazard that has to be encoun-tered is that people do have a habit of being adaptive. Despite all lack of preparation on your part, they will work out what they need to do to keep your flagging sprits up, use their initiative to prepare warm AlkaSeltzer for your incipient stomach cramps or dig out the FreezeSpray for your muscle spasms. This is a hazard that the dedicated mediocrity can easily avoid by going off-course, but even then you can’t guarantee that they won’t track you down. Put them off getting too close with a ballistic bottle delivery that resembles a Po-laris missile launch.

Closely related to the subject of assis-tance is that of food. You’re on the road for twelve hours so sustenance is imperative. Energy is at a premium so a pocket full of entirely synthetic energy gels to keep you topped up with that overwhelming sensation of nausea is an approach that could hardly fail to fail. However, in this more ‘organically’ orientated age a more traditional approach would be to use dried fruit and rice pudding. A handful of dried apricot will keep you chew-ing from Prees to Shawbirch and back, and stand you in significant risk of choking. Rice pudding is the fuel of choice for the elite rider, but even here defeat can be plucked from the jaws of victory as you realise that you have to decide between carrying a bottle of water or pudding. Cut this Gordian knot by necking the entire bottle of rice pudding and revel in the sensation as a starch bolus forms in the pit of

your stomach while you lumber towards Tel-ford.

Finally, and most importantly, we come to hydration; this truly separates the not so good from the heroically bad. Energy drinks and electrolyte-replacement drinks were de-signed for short, intense races, so applying them to a moderate intensity endurance race is obviously inappropriate; so do it. Also, by the end of this race you will have sound knowl-edge of what flavours you like and which you absolutely never, ever want to taste or smell again, so follow Sainsbury’s advice and ‘try something new today’. Even better, arrange to carry most of your liquid requirements in an aero-bottle. This US innovation was designed for smooth well-maintained highways, so revel as it falls apart on Cheshire’s home-grown version of pave and you spend twelve hours caked in sticky dried PSP22 and dying flies.

Dan Mathers

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However, one consideration that modern sports science doesn’t take into account is that water is very heavy, and makes up 60% of your body weight. The positive advantage of loosing a large portion of this during the day can only be imagined. After all, you can al-ways get an intravenous top-up later on – that’s what the NHS is for.

Obviously in such a short article, I have barely scratched the surface of what it takes to hone your performance to this degree. There is no substitute for actually getting out there, taking part, and feeling the wind rush as Winged Victory swoops past on Her way to place the laurel crown on the head of the com-petent.

Veni, vidi, defici. (I came, I saw, I failed)

-

My thanks to Peter-Marc, Dave, Sara, Karen, Johnny & Carol, for keeping my Twelve Hour on the rails despite my best efforts; to Jean, John, Gemma & all the other M&D riders for cheering me on; and in particular to the Nova CC posse.

Alan Blackburn

Summer Time Trialling

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Claiming your Racing Standards The club does not keep a complete record of all the events that everyone has taken part in, so it is up to you to claim your Standards. The club Standards are listed below. You can only ever claim a Standard at each level and at each distance once. To Claim your Standard please state Name Event Time / Distance And provide a copy of the result sheet to Mike McConville by 15/11/2007

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The Ladies in the club are getting faster, new club records have been set at 10 and 50 mile distances, Claire Burt did 24.12 on 11/8/2007 to claim the 10 mile record, and Louise Eden did 2.19.47 to claim the 50 mile record on 21/07/2007

Louise Eden The Wednesday night club 10’s have been a great success again this summer with often more than 20 riders taking part. Ian Udall did particularly well constantly going under 20 minutes, Dan Snape turned up nearly every week regardless of the weather. A big thank you must go to Keith Bailey, Reg Blease, Phil Holden, Dave Barker and Pete

Devereux, for organising and marshalling the event all summer. 23 riders took part in the club 10 on 6th June Dan Mathers winning in 22.38, other notable rides were done by Robert Crampton (junior) 26.00 and Sara Blackburn (Lady) 29.24 The Club 25 was held on 19/06/2007 21 riders took part Dan Mathers managed to do a per-sonal best of 56.03 to win in very windy con-ditions. Simon Williams finished in 1.00.22 to win the handicap, Louise Eden finished in 1.11.26 to be the fastest lady and Robert Crampton finished in 1.11.23 to be the fastest junior. Dave Bates won the vets competition with a plus of 14.19 , Keith Stacey did 1.09.18 on his mountain bike. Again thanks all the marshals and timekeeper, without whom the event could not have taken place. Phil Holden managed to organise a team of vets to enter the Mersey Road club 24 in July. All 3 finished, with very respect-ful results. Rumour has it that at least the big guy was due to get DNF. Phil did 367 mile ( that’s the unofficial known dis-tance), Robert Morton did 349 miles and Mike McConville did 320 miles. Alan Blackburn has been competing nearly every weekend all season and has done some fantastic rides recently doing PBs of 2.06.32 in the Congleton 50 and 242.66 miles in the West Cheshire 12 hour. Alan Blackburn and Paul Smith both managed to break the hour mark this season for 25 miles. Alan did a 59.57 in the Glossop Kinder Velo 25 in May, Paul did 59.06 in the Rhyl CC 25 in June.

The Squirrel

DATE 16 SEPTEMBER 23 SEPTEMBER 30 SEPTEMBER 07 OCTOBER 14 OCTOBER 21 OCTOBER 28 OCTOBER 04 NOVEMBER 11 NOVEMBER 18 NOVEMBER 25 NOVEMBER 2 DECEMBER 9 DECEMBER 16 DECEMBER 23 DECEMBER 30 DECEMBER 06 JANUARY

HALF-DAY

DELAMERE MEERBROOK NANTWICH MARINA CLUB HILL CLIMB RADWAY GREEN HOPE ASTBURY TATTENHALL WINCLE MINN BEESTON HOLLANDS CAT & FIDDLE ROSE FARM ** RADWAY GREEN *** CHRISTMAS HOT POT IMPROMPTU DAGFIELD FARM

TOURING SECTION MEERBROOK CHESTER - BOB RICHARDSON MEMORIAL RUN MADELY * HILL CLIMB WITHENSHAW HILL ‘TOURING’ 100 IN 8 HOPE AUDLEM CHEDDLETON BARTHOMLEY BLAZE FARM BEESTON HAYFIELD DONES GREEN CAT & FIDDLE CHRISTMAS HOT POT **** CHARLESWORTH UTKINTON

* Weekend away at Stephen Park, Gisburn Forest - contact Andy Burns ** Montgomery Weekend *** Cyclists Carol Serveice and M&DTTA Christmas ‘10’ **** Touring Section runs start at 9:30 am from the 23rd December

summer 2007 - seamonscc.co.uk · winners at the club 10, robin haigh, robert crampton, dan mathers,...

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