The afternoon ride was a complete and utter contrast to that of the morning’s ride with its urban ugliness. Some of the most beautiful scenery of the whole trip was about to open up after second lunch. However, prior to that we hit a nasty manmade challenge as we approached the small town of Whalley. Two sections of the road were being resurfaced and so we were faced with a mixture of hot tar and sharp granite chippings, a lethal combination for the tyres of a racing bike. The tar stuck to the rubber of our bike wheels and the chippings stuck to the tar. We knew it was just a matter of time before we would be plagued with multiple punctures. Scott and I, who were riding together, tried to manage this danger by stopping regularly and sweeping the chippings off our tyres but in reality, we had little success. As soon as we mounted again, within seconds, the tar and grit were caked on our tyres again. In the end, for safety’s sake, we dismounted and pushed our bikes until we reached Whalley; fortunately, not too far. A bit annoying however, that a manmade difficulty caused me to walk half a mile or so when the hardest of hills had not defeated me. I spent a considerable amount of time, after we had eaten, cleaning all the detritus off my tyres in the hope that I wouldn’t get a puncture. I must have done a reasonable job because I didn’t get one. Scott decided to abandon the afternoon ride as it was too hot for him. He put his cycling shoes on a wall in the Whalley car park whilst we had lunch. Mistake, big mistake!
After second lunch, once we were out of Whalley, the ride brought us to the exquisite panoramas of “The Forest of Boland”. Now, you might be tempted to question the use of the word “panorama” in relationship to a “forest”, as often in a forest, “you can’t see the wood for the trees”. “The Forest of Boland” is one of those anomalies of the English language where you use one word to describe something which is the complete opposite of the normal meaning of that word, e.g. “that meal was wicked”, when what you actually mean is, “that meal was very good”. Or, when you go to a football match you “sit” in the “stands”. The reason why the “Forest of Boland” fits this category is the fact that it actually has very few trees, a prerequisite of a forest, even a wood, I would have thought. Of course, I am aware that at one time, when I were a lad in fact, you did stand on the terraces at a footie match whereas now you sit. So, perhaps our forest did have trees at one time but now has but a few.
As I mentioned in my last blog, Lizzie was doing a great job steering us towards our goal for the day, Slaidburn Youth Hostel, that is until Adam decided to go shooting off like Geraint Thomas attacking in the Tour de France. He past her and at breakneck speed disappearing over the brow of a low hill, where he was subsequently lost from sight. The upshot of this was, he missed a righthand turn that would take us over the most spectacular vistas of the day. Lizzie, taking her responsibilities as leader of the pack seriously, had to ride him down and bring him back up a considerable ascent to where I was waiting for them, quietly muttering to myself, “bloody boy racer!”
Once Lizzie had retrieved Adam, we all got back on the right track and together ended the day’s ride in Slaidburn. Now it has to be said that Slaidburn Youth Hostel is the creakiest building in all England. When people are moving about inside the building it feels a bit like I imagine it would feel if you were on a Ship of the Line, sailing with Lord Nelson. Having showered and downed a pint of protein drink, I walked across the road to the “Hark to Bounty” pub where I reacquainted myself with, “Theakston’s Old Peculiar”, a beer I have not tasted in the last four years, in fact not since the last LEJOG. A couple of pints of that certainly got rid of the foul taste of the chocolate flavoured protein beverage I had previously downed.
The group returned to our creaking night’s refuge, where Julia and Mary cooked Chilli for supper; “a great big plate of yum” as Greg Wallace would say. After supper the group split up for the evening, some went back to the pub for another session and some like me, tempted though I was, went to bed.
Ezekiel's Wheels 