Path: Home | Club Run Feb 27th 2011 Audlem
February 27th 2011 (Mike and Simon find their way to the Ice Cream Farm)
9.00am at Hyton Roundabout and the rain is teeming down. Not a great start but the BBC forecast promised it would clear by mid morning. Four of us turned up but no one claimed to know the way to Audlem. Plan B would ultimately be the Ice Cream Farm although the destination was not discussed, it was just too grim to consider at that point. We set off on the not so magical mystery tour and headed for the Runcorn Bridge. This was a bridge to far for Dave and after 20 minutes he called it a day, the weather and the spray from our non regulation rear mudguards was a too much. He wished us well and disappeared into the downpour. Arthur, Mike and I set off into uncharted territory. I don’t know how many times between us we've been to the Ice Cream Farm but I don’t think any of us had been on our own. Could we navigate the route without any help?
We sped though Frodsham and turned towards Delamere quickly climbing a couple of small hills and managed to lose Arthur at the top of Picture House Rd. After a quick locating mobile call we regrouped but soon after Arthur (full of cold) also called it a day, so that just left Mike and me. We put the hammer down and all was going well. We found our way to the only climb on route worthy of any merit and after a right then left and right, right, right we arrived at the Ice Cream Farm just before noon. Getting there was easy the challenge now was how to get back. After a hearty lunch we set off towards Tattenhall, so far so good. The sky cleared but the wind was relentless and the lanes without foliage gave no protection. I had not ridden against wind like this since the typhoon on Saddleworth moor in 2009 (ask Arthur). We were being bitch slapped in the face with every guest. Like Rocky Balboa we were taking one hell of a beating but we weren't going down.
We arrived at the Mills in good time and in good spirits, after fourteen rounds with "Clubber Lang" we were staggering but implausibly still standing. The last leg was the jump across the Wirral to the train station. It didn’t get any easier, we were still getting spanked by the wind and the tailey we were praying for never materialised. Liverpool’s business district has never looked so good. This was one of the best rides to the Ice Cream Farm I’ve ever been on.
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