Something that has always bothered me when walking from work to the city centre and around my town centre is the way that other people walk. The hogging of the whole pavement by a single person as they walk in the middle of it leaving you to either push them out of the way as you pass when they invariably ignore you after asking politely to pass them; shoulder them out of the way irrespective of whether they’ve heard you or not; squeeze between them and the building you’re passing or walk in the road and potentially get splattered by car, bus, lorry or tram. Or the crazed cyclist who has no regard for anything.

Take this morning for example. Walking from Piccadilly to Ardwick Green I spent most of that time on the road as ignorant people, usually alone, walk centrally down the pavements as though they own the gaff leaving no room to pass them by! I can understand it if they had umbrellas up (it was raining) or had a pushchair, but when it’s just them and their handbag or them and their apparently-unchecked-for-the-last-3-seconds balls then there really is no need for it. When I walk anywhere I’m usually aware of the people around me and will move over if I see that someone wants to pass me by if I’m in the way. More often than not I walk kerbside or close to the buildings to allow for easy passing.

Have we become a nation of lazy-arsed, selfish, ignorant idiots?

Grumble grumble grumble.

There were no cyclists to scalp, but I was content with pootling along at my usual pace and was happily doing so until a cyclist flew by me a little too close to my liking given how busy the road is. Once I had the chance of being able to eyeball the cyclist, I recognised the kit and worked it out to be one of the guys I used to cycle with who now has no contact with a few of us cycling buddies at all for various reasons. Now I’m an amiable cyclist and will nod a greeting or say hi as I pass a fellow two-wheeler and will ALWAYS give them plenty of room as I pass, whether I know that person or not.

When I reached the spot where I usually do my sprint training I did so and pretty soon was passing the guy. I couldn’t be arsed with the greeting this time as I knew that my passing him would have riled him and pretty soon he would be passing me again just to prove a point. So, I carried on my merry way at around 26mph – not with the intention of trying to leave him behind, but as I needed to do some sprint training – until I began to near a double set of lights which signal my turning – and, as it turns out, his turning. When I slowed down for the turning, he flew on past me and round the turning and soon disappeared out of sight.

The gorilla holes were avoided easily this morning as I had no cars tailing me and work was reached a mite quicker than yesterday!

Blurbage – outgoing

3.42 miles
31ft climbed
00:13:10
15.5mph average

Tonight’s commute home was a breeze compared to yesterday. Despite very slow moving traffic on AGS heading towards the roundabout, a kind driver let me into his lane and, seeing there weren’t any buses about to plough me down, I crossed into the bus lane and sped to the roundabout.

Getting the surprise of my life – white van man letting me out – I set off down Higher Ardwick ignoring whatever was being chanted at me by a gang of locals and jolted along until I was cut up by an eejit who was at the far right of the wide junction and proceeded to turn left in front of me just before I was about to turn left and head over to the right hand lane for the next turn.

After a brief stop to correct a minor helmet issue and then a red light, I was back on the main drag home. There was no sign if this morning’s cyclist – I shall call him Phantom – so I had no tail to chase after at any great speed, but there was another cyclist ahead of me so I made it my mission to use him as a training tool. He was far ahead enough for me to have to sprint to catch him and I got into the mindset of keeping him at bay once I’d passed. At the first set of lights he squealed to a halt behind me – I’m not sure what he thought of me being where I was and not heading down the inside of the line of cars, but I rarely do that as I’ve seen too many close calls between bikes, cars and lorries, so I’d much rather sit alive and happy in line as I’ll still get to the same place seconds later! At the next set of lights the cyclist was still behind me, but was soon left behind as the traffic rarely got slower than a crawl and I was able to pedal on consistently.

Morrisons and Elcometer passed by and I was home and more than ready for a steaming bowl of soup and crunchy, chunky bread. Now, I must remember to charge up the batteries for my front lights as one died on the way home; good job I have several other lights – another main front light, front led helmet light and knog frog on the bars, and 2 rear lights, flouro strips and rear helmet led. No wonder a colleague said I was lit up like a christmas tree this morning!

Blurbage – outgoing

3.42 miles
ft climbed
00:16:54
12.2 mph average

Given that those pesky storms have decided to leave us alone for a bit, I though I’d ride into work again this week.

Allowing myself the luxury of a lie in (getting up at 7 instead of 6am) I had a very relaxed breakfast and set about finding random pieces of my kit before giving my bike another check over to ensure the tyres hadn’t mysteriously gone down overnight.

Once dressed, I hauled ass and bike down the stairs and out into the dark, dank, damp world of Tameside, pulled on gloves, poked several buttons on several lights until I was lit up like a Christmas tree and rolled straight out alongside static traffic and to the ASL a few doors down from where I live, all to the glares and stares from those people who just simply can’t live without their little boxes on wheels.

A left turn took me onto the roughest road in the area (surface not people…although some of the people are a bit trouble-making) where my poor cree torches set about rattling like they were in competition with a pissed off rattlesnake. I really need to find out why they rattle so badly and somehow stop them doing so as it’s really annoying! Demolition works on a church made one bit of road interesting to navigate, but I got through ok and I was soon turning off onto side streets and making my way to Ashton Old Road for the long straight(ish) run towards the city.

My ‘missing’ speed (I’d lost a lot of speed over the past year) returned as I scalped a trio of cyclists who, in the past, have left me for dead, only this time I was leaving them in my wake, and all too soon I was having to slow down in anticipation of my left hand turn onto another crummy stretch of tarmac, this time heading along Chancellor Lane and the right hand turn onto Higher Ardwick doesn’t fare much better with potholes you could fit a gorilla into which force you into the middle of the road unless you want to buy a new bike on insurance!

Still, I was soon onto the silky smooth Ardwick Green North, swerving behind a reckless pedestrian as she stepped out into the road without looking and while trying to cross diagonally across two roads! Then came the fun – trying to get across Ardwick Green South in one piece. I head along AGN to avoid a very busy five way roundabout and the necessary right hand turn I would need to take, but crossing AGS can sometimes be a game of chicken despite there being many many crossing points between Grosvenor St and the roundabout, they aren’t very safe to use. The traffic coming along AGS from the city tend to think of it as an extension to the motorway they’ve just come off too, so it’s not surprising that speeds of 70mph are often reached on here. trying to cross it on a bike can be a tad scary.

Obviously, the fact that I’m writing this is testimony to the fact that I got across alive and well!

Blurbage – outgoing

3.42 miles
31ft climbed
00:13:19
15.5mph average

Leaving work was pretty chaotic as Ardwick Green South was nearing bumper to bumper traffic, but I waited until a driver from next door was leaving the car park and nipped out with him. Once on the roads traffic felt less busy, which was odd seeing as the volume hadn’t changed after I began riding.

I took advantage of white van man as I made my left turn at the roundabout and set about hunting down the cyclist that whizzed round it before me. He’d disappeared by the time I got round the next bend.

There was a hilarious moment where I nearly fell onto a car as my cleat refused to let go of the pedal when a sudden red light forced an emergency stop – I was a mite tardy with the unclipping and had a sideways wobble towards the car next to me. Thankfully I unclipped before a full on wobble, saving myself from embarrassment, though I was still chuckling to myself as the lights changed and I made the right turn onto the stop-start road that is Ashton Old Rd in the evening rush hour.

Passing one cyclist pissed him off greatly as, while I obeyed the law and patiently waited in line for the lights to change, he just had to get in front of me by weaving in and out of the fairy bluebells traffic, only to find he’d not got much further on. Passing him again must’ve lit the touch paper as he got more reckless riding on the wrong side of what is a very busy multi-lane road. I could understand it, somewhat, if I was hunting him down, but I was merely riding at my normal pace home and happened to pass hm a few times. Egotistical boys eh!!

There was the odd muppet hogging the cycle lane in their car as I passed through Openshaw but a bit of grid hopping got me past her and into the upcoming bus lane to fly by the stationary cars til my turning took me onto the side streets and, after a compulsory one way loop, home.

Blurbage – homeward bound

3.42 miles
200 ft climbed
00:17:41
11.6 mph average

At precisely this time last year I was probably being pulled about like an antelope being fed on by lions as the surgeon yanked my body one way while other people were pulling on my arm to try to get the bones aligned (I dunno cos I was unconscious at the time), before he began the painstaking task of sewing together bits of mush with hard lumps in them (smushed bone and flesh in case you were wondering). He’d make a great dressmaker, really he would, his sewing skills are phenomenal.

A lot has happened since then. I had a Christmas where I couldn’t open my presents. I had arguments with clinic staff because the dressings kept falling off and because I couldn’t get to the clinics in my council area so had to go to others, oh, and because I refused an appointment on new years day. I began what should have been a very long and painful road of physio, but what was in fact a short but very painful road of physio – I should most likely still be having physio now, but regained all movement and strength within a very short 3 months so was discharged in March. I was back on the bike a short 4 months after surgery. I am the terminator. No, not really, but I do have a metal plate that’ll be in me for life.

I’m now well on the way to having full feeling in the shoulder and arm as that was compromised during surgery. It’s a long slow process, but I’m ecstatic with how it’s progressing considering I was told that the feeling I’d lost could be permanent.

I’m now focussing on scar management to stop it getting lumpy and ugly. What I’m doing is helping slowly but surely. It hurts a lot as there’s no fat between the plate and my skin, just what feels like a hell of a lot of nerves that work! But the massage I’m doing there is slowly working its magic. The deep tissue massage I have to do on my shoulder and arm is also working wonders as it’s this which stimulates the nerves into healing themselves and also teaches my brain to ignore the messages saying that it needs to over-react to the slightest touch at that area. And it’s working. It really is. But it hurts a lot when I do it. And that is what I have to get over to. And I will.

As a result of the accident I am now a more cautious rider; I need to be. I corner a lot slower than I used to, I’m slower in the wet, hell I’m slower full stop – I’m probably on a par with a tortoise. I haven’t ridden at all since the weather turned much colder with the risk of ice. All because I need to still protect that shoulder until I have everything back to 100% or as near as it’ll be. Even then I might still be a mite more cautious than I used to be purely because of the fact that the collar-bone is now more at risk of catastrophe than it ever has been. I mean, they haven’t perfected the replacement collar-bone yet. Have they?

The biking has been pretty poor this year, which is to be expected. But, when you get told that you may never be able to ride in the drops again or even ride a bike full stop, I’ll take every little step I’ve made and I’ll hold it up there with pride.It has taken a lot of hard work and determination to get back to where I am now. There’s a lot left to do to get anywhere near where I was fitness wise, both mentally and physically and I intend to get it back; maybe not all of it, but I’ll damn well give it a good try. I can quite happily say that next year will be my comeback year. I hope to race at the Velodrome for my club again – the guys have asked if I’m going to race the last competition in our cycling year in January, but it’s too soon for me just now; I’ll be riding sportives again and I have a few lined up. I’m not expecting to beat my personal bests on anything, but just to ride them will be enough. I’m hoping to ride again with some of the great guys and gals I’ve met through my blog – Emma & Joby from up here in the North and Rafe from the South. Hell, I might even finally get to meet Phill who I’ve known through here for a few years now but our paths have never crossed. And Matt, watch out as I may well be heading down your way one day to ride with you and Rafe and maybe even the scarily fast John though I expect to be left behind before he’s even gone two yards!

So, to sum up. The past year has been shit and gradually got better. I foresee better times ahead in 2012 for me and my favourite piece of metal.

I may have spare screw holes in the plate, but you ain’t sticking candles in them!

What felt like a million years later a new tube was in, tyre was inflated, stuffed the flat into my pocket to repair at work, road crud smeared on my leg warmers, gloves on and I was off. Luckily it only takes me 15 mins or so to get to work as that was all I had before I needed to be in civvies and sat at my desk ready to fight the fight of the female in the male industry.

I worried a bit when the traffic started to tail back, more so as several idiots were driving in the cycle lane blocking my way, but once that cleared I made good headway. Riding straight into the work shop I had one boss joking that Eddy Merckx had arrived and one engineer saying I was on an Aldi version. Cheeky fookers! My bike is made by the guys at the Eddie McGrath cycle shop and wasn’t cheap when it was made. Still, jealousy eh, lol!

Blurbage – outgoing

3.6 miles
30ft climbed
00:14:52
14.7mph average

The homeward bound route today was a bit of a nightmare. I didn’t leave the office til gone 5:10 and you could tell that the extra ten minutes indoors made all the difference as the roads were fairly chocca all the way home, hence the difference in the average speed. Again, there were lots and lots of annoying cyclists weaving through the traffic and many riding on the pavement to get past the stationary stuff. Once the traffic was flowing again it wasn’t too bad and I was able to sneer and cackle at the idiots who’d ridden on pavements and running pedestrians off the pathways as I rode past them while they tried to bounce up and down kerbs or got off and walked. Patience on a bike is often a good thing. Despite the slow going I still got home before the time that my bus would have arrived at the bus station to take me home, so it’s all good!

Blurbage – homeward bound

4 miles
201ft climbed
00:20:40
11.6mph average

Given the issues I had getting a bus home yesterday and the Monday – a fatal car crash resulting in my bus not even turning up in the city centre (bus wasn’t involved, it just couldn’t reach the city centre) and some Tory person being in the city causing traffic chaos the day before – I decided that, what with the strikes and all, it might, just might, be better to ride into work today. So I did.

I woke at the normal time of 6:20 and had a very leisurely morning as I didn’t need to leave the house until 7:45. I tend to forget what exactly is on tv at that time of day as I’m usually kinda only half listening to it as I get dressed and force food down my throat, but today I got the full joys of Ugly Betty (repeats, again) and Wildfire (repeats, again) before sorting my rucsac out with a change of clothes and clambering into my kit.

The wind chill got my eyes-a-watering and as I rode down towards the main road I looked like I was really not wanting to ride – with tears rolling down my face as my eyes tried to cope with the cold, cold, wind. Blinking furiously I made it round to Ashton Old Rd without hindrance and readied myself to ride with half the world on my tail and out to get me.

I was very surprised at how easy it was turning right onto the AOR, as it’s normally a nightmare, but I was soon riding alongside good, law-abiding citizens until a van cut in front of me. Twice. The same van pulled out of a side street into my path, across into the next lane, then decided that he actually wanted to do it all again and cut across in front of me to turn left into the next side street. Plonker! Still, I was aware that there’d be morons and was prepared for them, so it didn’t bother me much.

Aside from the very odd places where the traffic narrowed into a single lane thus killing the cycle path, the rest of my ride was easy – traffic in one lane and the whole of the bus/cycle lane to myself. Oh, what a joy to be passing all those people in their tin cans. Getting close to Pin Mill Brow would be the most difficult part of the ride as the traffic becomes multi lanes with a turning for the inner city motorway (Mancunian Way) and I was anticipating that I would be flattened while approaching the turning, but I made the left turn easily and without a hitch and carried on my merry way along the crappy rough road, made my right hand turn under the bridge and got onto an even worse surfaced road. By now my lights were vibrating really badly and starting to annoy me with their hum, but the road soon evened out and I was making my last few turns to skirt Ardwick Green and then try to cross the stupidly busy road, though I would much rather do this than try to navigate the Apollo roundabout.

My only issue with commuting was having to lug the rucsac in with me, but I guess if I make it a permanent thing then I can leave some clothes and a change of shoes in the office and take them home at the weekend etc so I only carry it all twice a week.

You never know, this may become a permanent fixture, even though it is only around an eight mile roundtrip.

Blurbage – outgoing

3.6 miles
30ft climbed
00:14:43
14.8mph average

The route home was a slightly longer affair due to the traffic building up so it naturally took me a little longer to get home, but it wasn’t too bad. Getting out of work onto Ardwick Green South was surprisingly easy, but once in the bus/cycle lane to the roundabout I had the joys of the honks of disgruntled drivers who were angry with those in front of them, bizarre seeing as those in front were only crawling anyway and had to stop at lights. Oh well.

The back streets were difficult to navigate due to ruts and hgvs, but I soon got out onto Ashton Old Rd and began the main route home. Riding along here wasn’t too bad actually as the traffic was good and steady and I was given lots of room. But I was finding myself getting very annoyed with fellow cyclists who were running every light going and weaving in and out of traffic like they were at a fairground. At one set of lights the driver of the car next to me wound down their window and asked me if all cyclists were that mental, I said no as was plainly obvious with me, and they chuckled and said it was nice to see one obeying the law. Good to know that us good cyclists are appreciated by drivers!

The road remained fairly clear until near Matalan when it started to build and and I had to slow down and stop a few times, but I didn’t mind too much as I knew that I’d be home soon. As predicted once over the Floop the road cleared again as it became two lanes and I could roll along happily until my turning when the going got rough as the surface got more and more rutted and potholed. Thankfully the traffic on here is pretty light so I could hog the whole road.

The worst bit of the ride is when I get to my junction – as the tram lines run on it and it’s now been made into a one way system, it’s not great for road bikes, so I added a bit to the ride by doing a little loop round to the next set of lights and doubled back on myself.

Blurbage – homeward bound

4.2 miles
203ft climbed
00:20:19
12.5mph average

Paul suggested that we head along the Fallowfield Loop to lessen the potential of cross winds blowing us disastrously off course, so off we set out onto Alan Turing Way and across to Beswick, into cycle paths inundated with collections of leaves – a pile of which my bike decided it wanted to eat and promptly got a load of leaves mushed into the rear derrailleur and hanger and making the bike give up the ghost. Yelling to Joe and Paul that I had a flat tyre (this seems to be the only way to get them to stop if I have any issue at all), I spent the next ten minutes pulling out all traces of tree and ensuring that the chain would rotate without issue. Hmm, not even 5 minutes into the ride and things were getting oily!

Leaves out and we made the circuitous route to a trail (along an old disused canal which is now the trail) which would take us to the Fallowfield Loop, carefully avoiding the moss-strewn paving slabs and bobbing down onto the muddy trail as we passed the remains of an old train station – a very sweet stone archway now half buried under soil and plant life, and across a cobbled bridge  over the modern rail-lines and back onto the muddy, leafy, root addled pathway past my Mom’s childhood home which was side on to the old canal, and out through Abbey Hey to arrive at a junction of trails. My bro and Joe stopped to have a think which way was the ‘on ramp’ to the Floop as I lovingly call it, while I just breezed past, yelled “up the hill” and promptly turned off to the left and raced off up the incline to wait for them at the top. Paul pootle his way up, Joe crawled up. Giving Joe a welcome breather (and peace from the off-road jaunts for a while) I gave Paul the Zero tabs I’d promised him and he set about sorting them into drinks.

Following the Floop out towards Ladybarn was made difficult by the winds which were blowing hard into our faces; and by hard, I mean HARD, but we made good headway and were soon crossing Palatine Rd to get to the other section of the Floop. A steep slick drop onto the trail had Joe a little worried as wet leaves had really plastered themselves to the floor creating a rather slimy slope. This section of the trail was more sheltered from the wind as its valley was much lower than that we’d just ridden along, so the going was easy and the banter flowed. When we popped back out onto the roads the going got tough. Very tough. At times the wind was blowing so hard that we were pedalling flat-out to go nowhere! Paul and I took it in turns to be up front leaving Joe to have the shelter we provided – he is a fair bit older than us, so we thought this was only fair.

When we arrived at Chorlton Water Park we contemplated having a brew and a rest from the wind, but though better of it as the only seating available was outside and the wind was rather cold, so we carried on regardless and made our way over to the entrance to the lake path. We hauled the bikes onto our shoulders and clambered across the stile while a family were struggling trying to get two kids bikes through a kissing gate and descended the hill to the sound of the kids shouting ‘woahhh!’ after us as we sped off into the distance. The off-road trail here was fairly dry and the only concerns we had was not running over pooches bouncing around or running into one of many joggers on their circuit round the lake.

About a third of the way around we headed off towards the Mersey and the muddy upper riverside trail. There was more mud and puddles than dry stuff and both myself (on the roadie) and Paul (on his Scott mtb) were happily bouncing along getting muddy and wet, while Joe got further and further behind as he tried to skirt the puddles and mud. We waited for him at Jacksons Bridge where it was a case of hike-a-bike again up the steps and across the narrow bridge (Paul rode across and nearly rode off the far end before he realised it was too steep), I slid down the cobbles on the far side and Joe got down just as badly as I did. Paul was waiting for us by the football pitch nearby watching the players spend more time slipping and falling over than staying upright. Did I mention it was really muddy on the trails?!

Heading down Rifle Rd was a tad precarious as we all had mud flying off various bits of us and the bikes and the road was slick with rain so we all slid about a fair bit, but we soon got to the cafe stop at Sale Water Park where Joe nearly fell over when he realised that it’s a vegetarian cafe. We managed to get him sorted with something akin to what he would normally eat, and we all were soon chowing down on some seriously tasty grub, discussing options for next years rides in between mouthfuls of food.

When we finally decided to drag ourselves back out into the cold and wind we thought we’d head back towards Northenden via the roads, but forgot to take into account that we’d have to go round two roundabouts connecting motorway slip roads to the motorways, but we got lucky in that there was very little traffic about, even though it was around midday; it helped that we cheated on one and scooted about the pavement, but the other we rode properly. Once on the ‘proper’ roads we soon fell into formation – Paul/me at the front, Joe bringing up the rear having an easier time of it – and rode quite happily along fairly sheltered road. It wasn’t until we were getting close to Wythenshawe Park that we encountered strong winds again which taunted us for the next two or three miles. It was actually a relief to stop at traffic lights every now and then just to not have to push into the wind; a huge group of mods on their mopeds passing by us didn’t help matters as I longed to have a motor helping me along at times. Don’t know about what the boys thought when they saw them.

Two miles of shelter followed as we once again rode along the Floop, this time the winds weren’t even getting near us which was good, but we had much more company along the trail than when we were heading out along it so the going was often stop-start. It was good to see a fair few cyclists along the trail too. Back on the muddy portions and we now had to contend with small branches that’d snapped off the trees so that made things fun – roots, mud, leaves, moss, branches, people – just a few things to try and avoid! Just a mere mile later and we were back to where we got onto the muddy trail at the start of the ride and I was expecting Paul to take us off here and back on road, so got a pleasant surprise when we carried on along the trail and found we were heading alongside the police training site in Claytonbrook and heading towards the canal. I knew that we’d have to climb a steep cobbled slop to get onto the bridge to cross the mini marina and I could hear Joe muttering that he was a little lost. I shouted to him that there’s the climb coming up and to be prepared for wet cobbles. I had forgotten, however, that there were bands of raised cobbles in with the normal cobbles (kind of creating speed humps) that enabled the horses to get up and over originally. I only remembered them when I bounced across the first one of them and by then it was too late to warn Joe as he was close behind. When I got to the top I was on Paul’s wheel and stopped to look behind me to see Joe had stopped partway up and walked as the top half had proved too much for him.

We had a brief rest for Joe before heading off again, slip sliding down the cobbles on the far side of the bridge and back into muddy fun. The going wasn’t too good for Joe as the lock climbs proved a little difficult due to wither being cobbled or muddy ascents, but he was soon heading back onto roads with Paul while I carried on along the mud run to my place another three or four locks further up the canal.

It’s a shame that the club runs are now just a trio of us, and usually the same three people riding, but we still had a good ride out.

Blurbage: route can be seen here

24.1 miles
577ft climbed
7% maximum gradient
02:10:03

Heading out through Fairfield and Audenshaw I had the roads pretty much to myself – a few cars here and there, but no dog walkers or peds on their way to buy the Sunday papers – but the minute I got a puncture they all seemed to come out of the woodwork. Odd that. The front wheel had one of those hiss, silence, hissss, silence, more silence, hss, hiiiiiissssssss, silence moments, where you’re not actually sure if the wheel is deflating or whether you have a leaf stuck between the brake block and the rim as they make a similar sound. Pulling over into a side road, I poked the wheel and felt squishiness. The minute the wheel came off it was like the circus was in town – peds stopped to watch, drivers slowed down as they passed. These are quite clearly people who if they ride would push their bike home or get someone else to fix the puncture for them at a bike shop. I must have seemed like a very strange person stopping in the street and getting all dirty and oily repairing a puncture. And using co2 of all things!

Flat fixed and I set off on my travels again through Guide Bridge and Ashton to head down past Stamford Park and on along Wakefield Rd through Heyrod without the fear of fuzzy catastrophe as I don’t think the bunnies had woken up yet. The roads were all mine still as I plodded on towards Greenfield and the annoying tight left hand turn at the Chew roundabout, which I was thankful of as this place can get pretty gnarly when the traffic is heavy with buses attempting to make the switch back turn.

A brief break after 11 or so miles at the entry to the transpennine trail in Greenfield and I was soon ploughing on getting muddy as the trail had been churned a little with the night’s rain, hooves and wheels. My wheels slid out from under me a few times on the slicker parts of the trail, but I maintained my balance, swallowed my heart back down and carried on regardless into Uppermill, joining the road again to double back on myself to pass Greenfield pretty little train station and back down the hill to the tpt. This side of the trail was even muddier and meant concentrating more as the slicks were struggling for grip and sinking into the surface on the softer sections. The gurgling river at my side looked too chill to topple into too, so the mind switched on and got me safely to where I needed to be – popping back out on the main road at Friezeland.

Arriving back in Mossley I decided to try to make my legs fall off by heading up the climb to Top Mossley – a lovely evil git of a climb that usually results in many lorries and buses trying not to squish me or slide backwards down the hill as they crawl patiently behind me – there’re no passing places and the road is usually down to a lane and half thanks to parking for the residences – which is why I don’t ride this climb too often. Reaching the top of the climb I gulped in air like it was running out before the lights turned green and I carried on climbing to head up towards Mossley Cross in preparation for the amazing descent down the other side.

One mile of cheshire cat smiles later I was turning off the descent part way down it, to head down past Ashton Cemetary. I could have laid my poppy at the war memorial there, but I wanted to place it at 11am and I was too early so, after a brief pause for reflection I mounted the bike and set off towards my next off road jaunt – the NCN route through Park Bridge. This off road route is compacted sand in most places, gravel in others and a bit of tarmac thrown in where the trail runs through a little garden section and later near the end at Turner St. In places you can really tell that this used to be an old train line that carried the iron and coal etc to and from Park Bridge iron works. It’s certainly a good cycle trail, albeit a little short at 2 miles long, but I love riding it on my dusk rides; and today.

Just shy of a mile later and I was onto my third off-road section of the ride. At this point there’re two options – ride the cycle/bridleway alongside the disused Hollinwood Branch canal or ride along Riverpark Drive with its massive trees lining the way on one side with the river meandering alongside at the bottom of the valley and steep tree-lined banking on the other side of the drive. As I couldn’t be mithered with the hike-a-bike section later on after the drive passes the site of the now demolished Riverpark Hall, I opted for the, no less muddy, cycle/bridleway and it’s trio of cobbled descents to the Daisy Nook countryside centre, for a brew and brief respite.

By now my lungs had a bit of a chill on, and my shoulder was grumbling at me – a surefire sign that the nerves were regenerating and the feeling was coming back (it’s almost a year now since the rebuild op), yay! As I had 15 minutes to get to the memorial gardens I jumped straight on the road where a short, sharp shock awaits in the form of the steep climb out of the valley. No warming up to it either as you begin the ascent partway up it, have to turn right partway up it while still climbing, then have to stop just shy of the top to turn right again. Nightmare. But plough up it I had to do. I did cheat a little though and stayed on the left so I could turn left at the top of the climb and head towards a housing estate which enabled me to do an off-road diversion once near Richmond cycle track. I love riding this section of off-road – it’s full of huge craters filled with water and mud with drainage ditches either side filled with nettles and nastiness.

I made it to the Littlemoss memorial gardens a little before 11am and found nobody there at all. I was surprised at this seeing as it was the first remembrance day since the memorial got replaced after vandalism destroyed the previous one. But I noticed signs saying they were having a service there at 2pm that day. So, the time and gardens were mine alone. Leaving my bike and helmet leaning on a bench, I placed my poppy in the ground to the side of the slab of engraved marble, had my silence and a bit of a wobble as I remembered relatives who fought in the war and passed away over the past few years. By now, the wind had picked up considerably, so after a few more minutes I made my way out of the gardens and sorted myself out. Bizarrely the wind which had just so recently been strong, died down to a gentle breeze. I can’t even say it was due to my being in a sheltered position now as I was still in open land with fields to the side. Hey ho.

From here, the route home was simple and without a worry, aside from a stray dog on the fiveway roundabout, but I made it back in good time to have a second breakfast before heading over to my parent’s place for the day.

Blurbage: route can be seen here

29.1 miles
1468ft climbed
24.4% maximum gradient
02:15:44

The weather was nice with a hint of a chill, but no need for anything more than arm and leg warmers and a thin full finger glove to keep me toasty warm and I set off to the arranged meet point with no expectations for the ride. I like the rides when they’re just the two of us as Paul knows I’m happy to delve off road onto tracks, even though I only have a roadie, whereas the other club members really hate it even if it is on the well surfaced compacted Transpennine trail.

The outbound route was our fairly straightforward route to Uppermill as we passed through Daisy Nook and got caught in the traffic light contraflow around the road works although thankfully the uphill start for us wasn’t too difficult although we were a little worried we might be holding up the traffic trying to come down the hill; a needless worry as the lights were still in our favour as we crawled passed the top of the road works. Hurst came by in a haze once we’d gotten along Broadoak and then came the first decision – do we head down Darnton Rd and up Wakefield Rd or head up Mossley Rd which is a longer climb – we opted for the shorter, but steeper initial climb of Wakefield Rd and were soon pootling through Mossley and for some random reason when the road heads skywards through Roaches it feels really hard to get up it. Up it I got and both of us stopped to admire the views across the fields opposite the Royal George – the River Tame, the Huddersfield canal, flood plains, ponds and grazing sheep and horses.

After a brief chat we made the decision to stop in Uppermill rather than head further into the hills as this was the first ride Paul has had since hurting his ankle on a club ride in August and it was still a little tender.

When we approached Chew Valley Rd, Paul pointed out the TPT trail that runs through the area and we didn’t need to think about turning off onto it. The first section is on sandy tracks through parkland before it turns into roadway for a teeny section and then back onwards onto compacted sand and gravel strewn with wet leaves and the occasional horse manure pile. Here the trail looks really pretty and country despite there being houses and vehicles merely metres away. After passing a sports field and another tree-lined section, Paul showed off by riding down a steep bank alongside some steps leaving me to dismount and walk down them – I would’ve tried riding down the bank if I had knobblies on, but slicks and wet mud don’t make good bedfellows! A final descent brought us into Uppermill proper where we stopped at Saints for some nosh.

Feeling refreshed we headed over to the Brownhills centre to see if there were any photographic exhibitions on – there wasn’t, but we had a lovely chat with the ranger there, sharing war wounds and tales of falling off bikes/horses. After letting the ranger get back to work we plodded off to unlock our bikes and lug them down the steps to the canal bank.

The canal was just ours and the ducks as we sped down the descent under the viaduct, but all too soon the dreaded humankind started to appear and the going got slower as they didn’t hear us calling out to ask if we could pass. Stray dogs and toddlers mixed in made things worse – how parents can let a toddler wander along a canal bank without holding its hand or having some form of control is beyond me!

After a brief bit of aggro from someone who told me I shouldn’t be yelling several times – if they ain’t listening when I ask loudly and politely, nor when I shout if I can pass them (I don’t wait until I’m literally on their heels like some cyclists do, but make sure I have plenty of room to stop if they suddenly stop), what else am I meant to do? Bells have no effect on people either most of the time – we finally got passed them and on to the bridge carrying the towpath from one side to the other. A steep slick cobbled descent brought me with a skid onto the towpath again for a mud bath session until we hit tarmac near Carr Lane.

We continued our hunt of short steep descents with the switch back road alongside Greenfield Station and swooped our way back along Chew Valley Rd to where we first got off road. We didn’t think the TPT travelled far off road in the direction we were now headed but we got on it and after a bit of parkland we were back into tree-lined trails crossing the river and climbing up out of the valley towards Station Lane and Oak View Rd. The trail looked like it carried on through Friezeland but as we knew there were stables and a horse arena down there we didn’t want to head that way just in case it didn’t and we really didn’t want to spook the horses, so we stopped our off-road fun and got back onto the black stuff.

Heading back along the route we got into Mossley the going was easy aside from dodging furry Exocet missiles and the poor unfortunate flattened hair brushes (hedgehogs), and seeing as though we were having it easy, we thought we’d try to make our legs fall off by heading up a steep road. The road runs alongside a park and climbs over 0.3 of a mile. Not very long you may say. And with a max gradient of 7.5% it’s not too steep either, you may say. It’s a bugger. Cars line one side of the road. Wet leaf litter takes over a lot of the other side of the road. A hospice is plonked on an avenue off this road too, so traffic can be an issue. So, a steep, single lane, slick road, and we decided to climb it. And climb it we did. My skills at climbing totally left me after the shoulder injury (not that I was a great climber anyway) so, for me, it was hard enough to do. Having cars get impatient with me as they were stuck behind us made me lose my temper. Flicking the bird at the honking idiot behind me, I had a strop and carried on climbing on the pavement instead of the road as, if I really desperately need to stop pedalling, I’d really rather not get flattened when I do so. As it was I didn’t need to stop and got all the way up in one go. And I didn’t lose sight of Paul either, which has happened a lot on climbs this past year – in the past I’d be off the front on any kind of terrain, but since the shoulder injury I’m not so far in front on the flat and falling off the back on climbs. Descents are still my domain though – I still fly down them, so long as it’s safe to do so.

After a breather at the top of the climb, and some stretching for my shoulder, we remounted and hauled ass in a homeward direction albeit a slightly wonky homeward direction. Heading back through Hurst and along Broadoak, where we played at being a time trial team (invariably with me flying off the front), and then shouting boo as we passed each other we soon found ourselves in dire need of a mug of tea, so stopped at Daisy Nook for a refreshing cuppa.

There seems to be something about going to Daisy Nook that encourages us to then ride back into Droylsden along a very rough track alongside the old disused Hollinwood branch canal – a canal which in parts is bone dry, in others so full of reeds you can’t tell if there’s any water in there – and boing along this route we did; bro on his rigid mtb with knobblies, me on my steel roadie with skinny slicks. We arrived at the farm at mid-point of the trail, very shaken about, but grinning like idiots. A tree-lined tarmac section led us to the super skinny bridge over the railway – definitely no room for error there or it’s skinned elbows all the way – and then through a lovely clough before skirting football and cricket pitches and the reservoir before popping back out into civilisation near Droylsden town centre.

A mere mile later the bro and I parted, and I was home, glugging a pint of milk and chomping my way through a bowl of weetabix while nursing a grumbling shoulder.

Blurbage: route can be seen here

26.5 miles
1310ft climbed
12.3% maximum gradient
01:55:23

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.