Ride Reports

Saturday 24th July 2021

B1 Ride Report: Route 31 to Settle 100+ miles, 5,300+ ft height gain, 15+ mph av spd. - Jonnti
The usual caviats and disclaimers apply however let it be known that I did send all riders a transcript of this report and they confirmed it as 100% accurate. Trev also commented ‘spot on Jontti!’
I, Jontti (all the way from Penrith) joined the B1 Desperados at the Millennium Bridge. Our tribe consisted of Karen Sienkiewicz (the RC1) the Stringfellows; Jane and Martin, wedded to each other and to ‘hi-viz’ - Martin sporting a pair of Jane’s knitted flouro tangerine socks and Jane a knitted lime green effervescent blouson. Bringing up the rear was ‘wing man’ Trevor Ford complete with newly applied spray tan looking, as always, like he’d just stepped out of a salon.
Within 5 miles of leaving Lancaster, The RC1 had taken us off course and down a farm track. To her credit however up to that point she’d skilfully used her bell to great effect alerting wandering pedestrians to our presence on the estuary cycle path. Unbeknown to The RC1 however, Martin had been a bus driver prior to becoming a hockey coach and at every chime he repeatedly pulled over, which came as a shock and surprise to all following and did nothing for our av. speed.
Upon popping out onto the main road we made up for lost time on busy but fast wide roads chain ganging it through Wennington, Bentham, Clapham and Austwick.
We all have our crosses to bear don’t we? Although Trev is a lot older than me, we both suffer from Urinary Tract Infections (UTIs) which means we need to pee quite often. Trev’s UTI is a constant problem and down to his age. Being a lot younger, mine is temporary and due to the fact that I wash my cycling shorts on a warm instead of a hot wash. Anyway- for the record, that’s how Trev has come to be my ‘wing man’ as at every pee stop he would be at my side. As you might suspect on a long ride such as this, this situation only served to dent our average speed still further however.
Upon reaching a hugely crowded Settle (bikers and staycationers) we explored the back lanes and discovered the Wonky Cake Cafe to whom a shout goes out to, for taking us in, feeding and refreshing is and sending us on our way with broad grins.
Over lunch Jane enquired about our previous professions. It turns out that whilst I had held senior positions in Financial Institutions in the City (whilst always planning the next ‘bunk off’ with like minded mates to cycle laps around the Royal Parks) she had been a pie maker, a personal assistant and a physiotherapist. It was only years later when she most latterly became a psychotherapist that she had self- diagnosed that she had a rare condition that meant she could only take up jobs that began with a ‘P’. Martin confided in me that Jane’s self- diagnosis couldn’t have come at a better time, narrowly averting a possible uncomfortable and delicate discussion about a career in prostitution to support his fledgling hockey coaching business.
Turns out from Settle it’s all downhill back to Garstang via Gisburn, Chatburn, Clitheroe, Whalley, RiBchester, Longridge and the like. So much more downhill than we’d earned going uphill we became giddy from the euphoria of it all. Discussions turned to:
1. Trev’s ever more desperate attempts to harness ‘aero’ gains and compete with Keith Norris’s posted av.speeds by borrowing my mankini;
2. Martin’s suggestions for alternative routes down to Tosside via The Game Cock for the B2 riders next week. B2 riders beware!
3. The RC1’s disc brakes; the noise from which had hospitalised small children with bleeding ears en-route;
4. Trev’s various reccie assaults on Pendle Hill - he’d often be gone so long his wife began to suspect he had another woman.
The return featured the now obligatory stop-off at Martin’s Mum, who as it turns out was wearing a hi-viz pink pinny knitted by Jane.
As the gang led by The RC1 headed to St.Michael’s for suitable finale refreshments I set about vastly improving our av. speed on the ride back to Lancaster.
Stunning views and massive shouts out to the tribe that made 100 miles feel like much, much less.

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