Ride Reports
Saturday 17th August 2019
Seven + 1 ride to Arnside cove - Michael Birchall
It had been ages since the last secret seven meeting, in fact so long that some members had been forced to pump their tyres up.
I arrived at the usual meeting place bang on 9-30am, slightly red in the face following a delay setting off, waiting for mother to fill my bottles with the obligatory ginger beer. "How much will you need," she asked. "lashings and lashings!" came the reply.
The rest of the gang were already there, they being Keith, Rick, Justin, Sue, Andrew and Dave, with a plan, already hatched, to meet Isobel (Scamper) on route. Unfortunately, mysterious uncle, Phil couldn't make this one, having disappeared without warning on one of his even secreter missions, allegedly confronting seal cullers in far off Latvia.
We set off, after the usual brief chat, with the sun threatening to come out and what promised to be a reasonable days riding.
Being elected the leader for the day it was down to me to devise a suitable route, which I dutifully did the previous night. A little tardy I had to admit, but having the excuse of only just returning from a previous adventure with the Famous five that evening, I thought I had a case to make.
So with desires to keep off the busier roads, the route headed out through the back roads of Nateby, out towards Pilling, and on to Cockerham via Gulf Lane. From there we were to rendezvous with Isobel (easily identified because of the very colourful jersey she was wearing), somewhere near Aldcliffe, and then on through the back streets of Lancaster, through the Kellets, finally reaching Arnside after some 40 or so miles.
All was was going peachy until my, usually trusty, compass gave up the ghost, having to then rely, somewhat reluctantly, on others in the group to navigate the way. Sue, the sensible one, took up the challenge in good spirit and got us to our seaside location without too much more fuss or bother.
Due to mother not ensuring we had worn our vests and a strong south-westerly now taking hold, we decided to eat indoors. The rich array of meaty and non meaty delicacies on offer filled our depleted belly's, some of the group even having room for a sticky bun or two and of course the obligatory lashings and lashings of ginger beer.
The journey home started fairly easy, us having the wind mostly on our backs as we headed out towards Milnthorpe, but from there it turned out to require a greater effort much of the way home, having to contend with a pretty much constant head wind.
Eventually, as we got closer to home the seven plus one started to deplete in number, myself peeling off at Scorton village, feeling suitably fatigued, but equally happy having enjoyed yet another spiffing adventure with the irrepressible secret seven (plus 1).
Next outing- Seven go mad in IOMan.
I arrived at the usual meeting place bang on 9-30am, slightly red in the face following a delay setting off, waiting for mother to fill my bottles with the obligatory ginger beer. "How much will you need," she asked. "lashings and lashings!" came the reply.
The rest of the gang were already there, they being Keith, Rick, Justin, Sue, Andrew and Dave, with a plan, already hatched, to meet Isobel (Scamper) on route. Unfortunately, mysterious uncle, Phil couldn't make this one, having disappeared without warning on one of his even secreter missions, allegedly confronting seal cullers in far off Latvia.
We set off, after the usual brief chat, with the sun threatening to come out and what promised to be a reasonable days riding.
Being elected the leader for the day it was down to me to devise a suitable route, which I dutifully did the previous night. A little tardy I had to admit, but having the excuse of only just returning from a previous adventure with the Famous five that evening, I thought I had a case to make.
So with desires to keep off the busier roads, the route headed out through the back roads of Nateby, out towards Pilling, and on to Cockerham via Gulf Lane. From there we were to rendezvous with Isobel (easily identified because of the very colourful jersey she was wearing), somewhere near Aldcliffe, and then on through the back streets of Lancaster, through the Kellets, finally reaching Arnside after some 40 or so miles.
All was was going peachy until my, usually trusty, compass gave up the ghost, having to then rely, somewhat reluctantly, on others in the group to navigate the way. Sue, the sensible one, took up the challenge in good spirit and got us to our seaside location without too much more fuss or bother.
Due to mother not ensuring we had worn our vests and a strong south-westerly now taking hold, we decided to eat indoors. The rich array of meaty and non meaty delicacies on offer filled our depleted belly's, some of the group even having room for a sticky bun or two and of course the obligatory lashings and lashings of ginger beer.
The journey home started fairly easy, us having the wind mostly on our backs as we headed out towards Milnthorpe, but from there it turned out to require a greater effort much of the way home, having to contend with a pretty much constant head wind.
Eventually, as we got closer to home the seven plus one started to deplete in number, myself peeling off at Scorton village, feeling suitably fatigued, but equally happy having enjoyed yet another spiffing adventure with the irrepressible secret seven (plus 1).
Next outing- Seven go mad in IOMan.
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