This article will appear in issue 56 of the club magazine, out in September 2009. Details of how to subscribe are here
The Sunday before Christmas, it is traditional for Barnsley Road Cycling Club to have a cycle ride to Holmfirth. There is a good pub there, colloquially known as ‘the Nook’ which has a roaring log fire. The main reason for this choice of venue is that Barnsley to Holmfirth is a fairly short run, therefore allowing maximum time for beer consumption, an important consideration during the festive season, amongst the prime athletes with whom I cycled. Following a move to Sheffield, I nevertheless continued the tradition of cycling to Holmfirth and meeting up with my former club mates in ‘The Nook’ for the pre-Christmas social event.
On the second occasion of undertaking this solo journey, there was a slight drizzle of rain as I left home, which, by the time I had reached The Flouch and was traversing high almost deserted hill country, had become a heavy snowfall. It vaguely crossed my mind that perhaps I aught to turn back, particularly when I saw cars skidding and sliding around on the treacherous road surface, but the Holmfirth run was an important tradition, not to be abandoned lightly, so I carried on with my epic journey. The snow continued to fall steadily and the isolated country roads gradually became bereft of traffic. The scenery was magnificent, dark trees standing starkly outlined against white snow covered fields. It was a spectacular and magical scene and I felt exhilarated cycling along in splendid isolation. Continue Reading…
This article appeared in issue 54 of the club’s magazine. Details of how to subscribe are here
When this hostelling weekend was first mooted as a club event, I knew immediately that it was not for me. Accommodation was referred to as a bunkhouse, which undoubtedly would involve bedding down on a bale of straw, in a cold, draughty barn without so much as a power point in which to plug my hairdryer. However, when we undertook a club ride which came within a few miles of Sheen, Mark, who was organising the weekend event, suggested a detour to go through the village, to allow me the opportunity to assess the accommodation. We came to a halt beside a neat, gravelled driveway leading to a modernised, cosy-looking farmhouse, alongside of which was a converted farm out- building. As I peered through the window of the out-building, a pleasant woman came out of the farmhouse, and when given an explanation as to my curiosity, took me inside to look around. It was a revelation. There was a large, modern, well-equipped kitchen, comfortable lounge, a dormitory with three bunk beds which most importantly had a double en-suite shower facility, with sparkling white tiles and shiny chrome. There was, apparently, a larger dormitory above, accessed by some concrete steps on the outside of the building. The only down side was that the two dormitories had to share use of the two showers.
Continue Reading…
This article appeared in edition 53 of the club’s magazine. Details of how to subscribe are here
People who know me will be well aware of my yearly visits to the greatest free event of the world, the Tour de France”. It is hard to explain the attraction to non believers but in the six or so days I am away from home I gain so many memories, here’s just a few from this year…
As with anything planning is important, I try to get my yearly “fix” by visiting a sprint finish, time trial, and stage start, three connected but totally different experiences. Another must is a camping site at a stage town, so I can walk to the “race”.
As soon as the route was out I started planning and decided to make my base for is year at Cholet, From here I could travel the 40 or so miles to Nantes on Monday 7 July for the finish, returning to Cholet for the start and finish for the first time trial on Tuesday and then the stage depart again from Cholet on Wednesday before coming home.
The ferry was soon booked and together with my travelling companion Jim, we set off at lunchtime Saturday 5 July, travelling to Portsmouth for the night ferry to St Malo, a route we’ve used before. An uneventful trip saw us arrive at the ferry terminal with enough time to visit the nearby dockside pub for a meal and refreshment at quite reasonable prices.
I’d just finished eating when I saw 3 lads I knew from Manchester. I’ve seen them before on several “Tour trips” first meeting them in a bar in Charleville Mezieres, northern France in 2003 the night before the start in that town. Like me they were regular visitors and look for the same type of venue. A quick chat revealed that not only were they on the same ferry, Jim and I were booked into he adjacent seats on the ferry, not only that, they were also on the same campsite.
Onto the ferry and a quick shower and change out of motorbike gear and watch the ship leave Portsmouth. A sight in itself as it passes the might of the Royal Navy at anchor. Many cyclists were also on board making their pilgrimage to locations in Brittany to see the race. Back inside and to the cabaret bar for a nightcap and hour or so of relaxation (is there a common theme surfacing about this trip?). The main act was a speciality magic duo that performed well. Things got a little rougher and with the ship rolling somewhat dramatically, the cabaret had to cancel the finale, which involved the magician being blindfolded while throwing knives at his pretty female assistant, pity really it might have been amusing… Anyhow enough beer was consumed and off to bed (or seat). Continue Reading…
