Last night, as I lay my head down, I could hear a hard rain outside. It was still raining this morning, albeit reduced to a drizzle, but it was a drizzle that seeped into every crack and crevice. Again I left early although this time my early start was more about getting into the company of good friends as soon as possible rather than because of the miles I had to do: I was spending the night with Anthony and Stacey in Much Wenlock some seventy miles away.
My route south initially took me back through Sankey Valley Park, continuing on from where I had left it yesterday evening: it seems to me that the park runs along the full western edge of Warrington. This time though I largely paralleled a small waterway through the woodland, possibly the remains of Sankey Canal after which the park is named but I can’t be sure. I headed towards the city centre on not-yet-busy main roads, climbed out of the city and joined the A49. This was the road I would follow for the best part of the day: it was mostly single carriageway joining smaller towns and I was anticipating that on a Bank Holiday Sunday it would be quiet. I was partially correct.
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| Sankey Valley Park |
Like yesterday, the road was generally flat and undulated gently across the Cheshire countryside. Today though the inclines were just a little shorter and a little steeper so whereas yesterday, when maintaining a little momentum carried me forward with ease up most of the hills, today I had to work harder on the ascents. Nevertheless it was still terrain that lent itself to a reasonable overall pace.
Some stretches of that road were verge free and lined with trees, hemming you in either side. Whether it was due to the sense of containment this gave or because they were straighter stretches I do not know but I was left with the impression that what traffic there was rushed past much faster and while most drivers were mindful of my presence it was still a little disconcerting. Despite that, for much of the route I was on enjoyable stretches in open countryside: wide verges covered in the white lace of cow parsley stretched along the road and low hedge lines gave far reaching views across green pasture blanketed with dandelions, a dense mix of yellow flowers and the soft white of those ready to seed.
I cut directly through the market town of Whitchurch to avoid the ring road, was pleasantly surprised by its centre with a mix of red stone and timber framed building and was then back on the main road. Whitchurch was the halfway point of my day but not long after I felt I was starting to tire: my body needed more fuel than I had given it. In Warrington, both last night and this morning, I had only eaten from the stock in my bag as my accommodation was in a residential area free from restaurants and shops. I may have eaten breakfast in an isolated farm shop on the route but overall in the last twelve hours my food intake was lacking. Since I was making good time I made my break worthwhile and stopped in a village a few miles from Shrewsbury for a relaxed Sunday lunch in the local pub. It was a meal enjoyed more for the need rather than for the quality.
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| Whitchurch |
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| Whitchurch |
The Fates were clearly unhappy with my relaxed approach to the day: on the manically busy ring road around Shrewsbury, which I had to navigate for Much Wenlock, I picked up a puncture. After 3000 miles across Europe three years back without a puncture and likewise 1500 miles across Spain last year I had now got a puncture here where there was no verge to speak of, where I was some distance from the nearest junction and where the traffic was fast and heavy.
Puncture repaired I continued but left the ring road earlier then planned on a quieter but more indirect road to my destination: I had already had enough of the ever increasing traffic and what the road had become, but the puncture from roadside debris sealed my decision. And I am glad I did. It may not have been easy but it was a blissfully quiet ride through beautiful countryside, made more so now the sun was out. However, when I was only two miles from Much Wenlock I struck the next problem: my hasty repair had left me with a slow puncture and a steadily deflating tyre. My idea of pumping it up to last the journey did not account for Harley Hill, a very steep and winding ascent directly before Much Wenlock, and I had to stop for another repair.
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| Approaching Much Wenlock |
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| Shropshire |
Those incidents were a frustrating delay to the day but I am now with Anthony and Stacey enjoying a comfortable evening. Socialising seems to have got in the way of getting my bike and my body ready for the morning but it is not something I feel inclined to worry about right now.
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