Trans Pennine Trail 2011
Friday 1st July to Sunday 3rd July
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Day 3
We woke to discover that Tom had already set off at some stupid hour. He presumably felt like he didn't want to slow us down as he had done on the second day, but in fact only really the Reddish Vale - Denton - Hyde sections were impossible terrain for him, which he could have circumnavigated. Another factor was that he had to be in Leeds on the Monday, so finishing in Southport late on the Sunday was not ideal. Anyway, we were down to five.
The café did not open in time for us to get a proper breakfast so I had to make do with a packet of crisps and a Snickers (I got a few - more on this later). Chatting to the shop owner opposite, she remarked that she had a connection with The Christie (although I can't recall what) - it's a small world. I was a bit disorientated and we started heading off up the hill at first, whence we had come, but on setting off Doylie realised he had a puncture. Not a great start and a bit neglectful that he hadn't checked since we had been outside for a while (about 7.40am we were out there). In the end, we didn't set off until about 8.40am. Down this hill. Not a bad view in the distance, but luckily we would be staying away from such heights today.
At the end of this road, we came to a junction which I recognised. From this point, we knew the route all the way to Warrington and a little beyond. I had done a number of rides up to Tintwistle, which was next to Hadfield and linked to the TPT route on the other side of the reservoirs. Far from being boring to have this familiarity, it was actually quite a relief. We did not have to focus on where we going - no squinting for blue signs in the mid-distance. We went through Woolley Bridge, took a slight short-cut in Gamesley (using the TPT walking route to cut through a less-than-lugubrious housing estate).
As we reached a junction in Charlesworth, Phil and Gaz hurtled down the far side before I could stop them (the rest of us were a little way behind). I yelled to recall them, and eventually they came back up the hill. From that point on, they insisted I lead given I knew where to go. There was another reason which I will explain later. There followed the funnest bit of the ride, a steep decline to Broadbottom, at points reaching 11% (it's an absolute pain to climb too, I can confirm), down which we hit a peak speed of 27 mph. Not bad on a big fat mountain bike. We could probably have gone faster but there was no need to be silly with a big day ahead.
I nearly had a very nasty moment, as someone went to open the car door as I hurtled past, withdrawing it at the last moment (I don't know if I would have had time to get out of the way - I was quite far near the dotted line as it was). I knew from experience, however, that after the big drop was a big rise, namely the Broadbottom hill, a hill that I had done quite a few times but I never once enjoyed. It is getting on for a mile long, and it seems to spiral forever. The cruellest part is where it flattens out slightly (it's all relative), giving some hope, before steepening again, crushing that hope. One training run I got a puncture a third of the way up and had to walk the rest - Doylie wondered what had happened to me.
Phil's superior climbing abilities had him hurtling off into the distance, Doylie was next, with me, Andy and Gaz holding steady at the back. Gaz's requirement to use the facilities spurred him on, however, and he gradually overtook everyone but Phil. The sun was out and it was warming up, turning it into very hot work indeed. I didn't take a photo of the hill itself, unfortunately, concentrating as I was to get up the thing. Anyway, this is the sight I love - the pub at the top. Once of these days, I should go in here and get a pint.
Heading off the main thoroughfare, we started down a bumpy road towards Hale (Hyde?), past lots of stables and impressive houses and suchlike. Normally, I come up the hill here, but this time we were effectively doing it in reverse. I had done it once or twice and it can be quite good fun, placing a bit of stress on the bike as you go juddering over stones and bumps. It was quite hard to see where to go since the whole road was in the shade, so Andy followed Doylie, changing this plan when he realised that Doylie was seeking out the bumps not avoiding them. Unfortunately, this was too much of a stretch for Doylie's panniers (bags slung over his back wheel in a fixed unit) - Phil commented on having seen them move around just a bit too much - and they buckled under the strain. Another stop.
Eventually Doylie got it sorted and we asked him to go easy in future. The next few segments were very scenic - in particular, Hulmes Wood, near Haughton Green, is very pleasant on a summer's day. The shot below shows us exiting Hulme's Wood, before a short sharp climb to Denton. Gaz brings up the rear as - once more - he was required to empty his bladder.
Between Denton and Reddish Vale, we crossed the M60, looking glorious (and relatively empty) in the bright sunlight.
At one point we headed across the A6 in Heaton Chapel, not far at all (perhaps about 400-500 metres) from Denby Lane. We were partly tempted to nip home to offload some equipment, including Doylie's troublesome panniers, but we decided against it in the end. Perhaps it would have been wise, looking back. Our first major stop was on Branksome Road, just off Didsbury Road, where the sister of Phil's wife Jackie resides. We stocked up on fluids and, indeed, relieved ourselves of some. This stop was at around 11am, having covered 17.5 miles in 2.5 hours. Not great progress, but it was hilly and uneven, and we had to put up with Doylie's disintegrating bike. From hereon in it was as flat as the proverbial pancake.
We headed through Didsbury, past Chorlton and Sale Water Parks, Stretford, Broadheath, eventually stopping for a decent half hour break in Lymm. We stopped at 1.15pm, having covered the best part of 36 miles in 4.5 hours. Slightly demoralisingly, we still had perhaps 44 miles to go. With family members arriving on Southport expecting a 5pm to 6pm finish, things were looking tight. (To be fair, I had predicted this.) We shoved carbohydrates and energy drinks down us, as usual feeling a bit bloated when we left but not knowing when we would stop again.
I bought another four Snickers, having stumbled, thanks to Gaz, on a brilliant solution to my low energy levels. Whenever I felt tired, I would munch on a Snickers and, 15 minutes later, the fuel injection would come, very noticeably. In all, I had eight Snickers during the day - excessive, and I may never have another again in my life (until I do a long ride of course) - but it was also necessary. I had learnt my lesson from Day 2. As ever, the hardest bit of the ride was getting back on the bike. We all hated this - gingerly lowering our aching backsides (steady) on to the seats once more, our stiff legs slowly loosening as the blood started to flow again. It was almost not worth stopping for such pain. Almost.
Unbelievably, despite Mr Davenport's meticulous planning, our afternoon jaunt coincided with "Dance the Trail", a serious of activities along the TPT between 2pm and 4pm near Lymm. This meant that my bell became invaluable and I was ushered to the front of the group, warning all the crazy people of Cheshire as I went. One organiser asked us not to go too fast through this section - chance would be a fine thing.
This is probably a bridge over the River Mersey near Warrington.
Oh no! A power station has come back to haunt us! I sincerely we have not accidentally looped back to Selby. (Of course we haven't.)
We got closer to that power station as we cruised along Sankey (St Helens) Canal on a lovely Sunday (for a barbecue and some beers anyway, not cycling 80 miles - actually, the smells of people having barbecues during the day were cruel).
The River Mersey got wider and wider as we approached Widnes Bridge.
More of the same.
And here's the Widnes Bridge, looking pretty impressive at close range.
Widnes by the water was a very scenic place indeed on a day like this.
Quick reverse shot of the bridge.
Did I say it was scenic? If we weren't in the middle of an endurance event we would have been really enjoying this afternoon's ride. It was a little after 3pm here. But we still had 33 miles or so to go.
We came down this slightly crazy stepped bit, which was a bit hairy to ride but awkward to walk, so I ended up doing both. A couple of us very nearly went going down here - well, I did a few times anyway. Doylie took it very gingerly with his loosely held together bike.
The camera went away for a little while then as we went through Speke, not a place you want to hang around for any length of time. We nervously stopped to check directions and the boys persuaded me not to go to the local shop to stock up on drinks, as a police car hurtled off the main road. Needless to say, our speed improved during this section.
The Trail then switched to a long, flat and fairly straight traffic-free path along which we made very good progress. I used slip-streaming as much as I could and we cruised along at speeds of 13 mph or so. At 5.15pm, with maybe 15 to 20 miles to go, we encountered another problem. Doylie had a puncture. Phone calls were made as the estimated time of arrival was revised. Sympathy was not received, but what could we do?
Some got into comfier positions while we waited for the mechanic to fix his own bike.
Near Aintree, we hopped onto the Leeds & Liverpool Canal for a stretch, with the path a little more uneven. I eyed up Doylie's panniers nervously.
All along these final miles, we again had run out of water and energy drinks. Nowhere was open at this time on a Sunday. Aintree, which we had just passed through, was just plain closed. Earlier, near Broad Green, we came across a Sainsbury's, as pointed out by some passers-by we stopped to speak to, but that was also shut. Criminally (or so we thought at the time), so was the accompanying petrol station. We bumped into a member of staff going home for the day, who tried to think where the nearest shops were, and even offered to go and get something for us, but we declined. I did not decline, however, an offer of half a bottle of summer fruits drink, which I transferred to my water bottle, cheekily passing the plastic bottle back. I wasn't too proud or fussy to refuse fluids after what we had been through.
Following the Trail, we came off the cycleway again, and into a small estate. I noticed a chap washing his car so asked half-jokingly if he had a hosepipe. He didn't, but he did offer to replenish our water bottles, which was very generous of him. He was a nice guy, although we weren't up for staying around too long for a chat, and we were soon on our way. Sir, we salute you. There was still 13 or 14 miles to go so it was definitely worthwhile. By now, though, it was 6pm.
Despite him giving us directions, the slightly twisted signposts had us heading the wrong way. The second false turning had us hilariously doing a complete loop of a quiet residential road, coming back to where we had started. We were very confused initially, but realised that we had missed the turning. Luckily, it wasn't too much of a diversion.
We then headed through mile after mile of open pathway through field after field, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Doylie was suffering by this point from a sore knee and general malaise, and I hung back to keep in touch with him. We finally came up to a fairly fast road section which had a two-way cycle path to the right hand side. The rest could wait no longer since they had family waiting for them, and they disappeared into the distance, while I sat in front of Doylie, pottering along at a leisurely speed. Eventually, signposts began to give us the time it would take to get to Southport, neglecting to confirm what speed that was assuming. By this point, I felt fine, but started to get bored of the road. By this point we were running parallel with the Irish Sea, although we couldn't see it because of the raised banks on either side.
The time to go kept coming down, but then we came across a confusingly signposted roundabout which seemed to want to direct us over the sand dunes. I whipped out the map as Doylie hungrily munched on a chicken sandwich. He hadn't eaten enough since Lymm and that was probably some of the reason for his suffering. I grumpily ushered him on since my mum and sister had decided to come and meet us at the finish since it was such a nice day. (Lynne was in Edinburgh with her parents and Daisy.) It turned out that the roundabout was not far at all from the finish and suddenly it was upon us. We had arrived about 10 minutes after the main party and we were clapped in by all and sundry. I ignored everyone, focussing on touching the TPT sign that we had stood besides the best part of three days earlier.
Gaz kindly handed around bottles of Bud and Wispa bars, but my next task was to down a Lucozade bought by my mum. Andy posed with a little 'un. He was set to ride the next leg...
My sister took the photo here, as some non-riders appeared in shot. We were without Tom here of course, who had cycled rather directly to Southport and had long since departed. Both Doylie and I wore the T-shirt of The Christie - mine was not the one I wore on the first day. Doylie's was.
We didn't know quite where to look since there was a phalanx of photographers (no local press sadly), so I just supped my well-earned Bud.
My sister decided on an arty shot to finish. Phil was sadly obscured.
We were going to see if we could get our bikes in my mum's car, but sensing that this would be unlikely, and seeing a sign for Southport station, I realised that our train was in 5 to 10 minutes, so we hurtled down the road, disobeying some elements of the Highway Code, making it with a couple of minutes to spare. The station staff, it must be said, were very helpful, ushering us through first then letting us buy tickets nearer the train while I headed over to the platform to ensure that we got on. The ticket inspector was a bit grumpy and sent me back along the carriage to where the bike storage section was, but happily there was just about enough room. We had to stand for a while since our carriage was really full, but eventually we got seats to slump into. Doylie felt ill so I chomped into his last sandwich.
The train took its time but ended up in Stockport at least, so just required a mile cycle to Heaton Chapel. It was not pleasant, and the sun was beginning to set, but I countered this by stopping at a petrol station to purchase some beers. We both, wisely, had booked the next day off work which was definitely looking like a good option now (in fact Doylie had booked the Tuesday off too).
So, we made it. Through thick and thin. No accidents (well, there was one, but it was hardly anything), our fair share of mechanical problems (although it could have been worse), almost perfect weather (perhaps too warm in places, but we're definitely not complaining given the washout weekends there had been earlier in the year), a dearth of shops on the trail in key places, some shoddily signposted sections, and a whole host of traffic-free pathways perfect for some otherwise pleasant bike rides.
We had travelled from Hornsea to Southport, covering about 210 miles (slightly more for those who went that extra mile in error, and a small chunk fewer for Mr Davies, I would expect). The last day had taken us a little over 10.5 hours to travel about 80 miles (still to be confirmed since the GPS went a bit awry somewhere near Lymm). It was a long, long day. Most of us felt pretty terrible at the finish but, funnily enough, I felt fine, probably due to the more relaxed speed I covered the last 15 miles or so in. I thought I could perhaps have done a fourth day (had we anywhere to go), but my aches and pains the next day suggested that this was perhaps optimistic. That said, it wasn't that different to how I had felt the previous two mornings.
I will put the route files on here in time - I just need to edit them a bit (Day 1 didn't work at all and I accidentally stopped it for a bit on Day 2).
Now edited, here they are: Day 1 - Day 2 - Day 3.
And of course it's not just the physical achievement. We raised over £2,000 for The Christie via this website. Thanks to all those who donated.
Gaz and Phil have separately discussed what our next challenge might be. I am keeping quiet...
The end.