Continuing my ‘Randonneur Round the Year’, this September’s bicycle ride was another Peak Audax Permanent event: “Holt 200”. Starting from Dean Row near Wilmslow, the route heads south west to Tattenhall, then south to Market Drayton for the halfway point. The return involves a brief border crossing into Wales at the village of Holt, before heading east again back to Dean Row.
This event is advertised as a flat ride suitable for winter, but in my mind a flat ride is suitable for anytime. There are varying degrees of flat though: this type of flat is the undulating countryside type, it never feels like a grind but rolls along easily without anything strenuous to hurt the thighs.
200km can feel like a long way, but when it is broken up with beautiful views, interesting distractions, and bathed in warm autumnal sunshine – then it becomes just a nice all day ride. It all started well, passing within touching distance of the huge radio telescope of Jodrell Bank.
The Holt 200 is almost universally on quiet country lanes and B-roads. I hardly spent any time on an A-road and never felt like I was being rushed or bullied by traffic – most of the time the roads were empty. I had a strategy for today: take it easy, eat a lot. I’d made some sandwiches the night before and packed my Carradice full to the brim. I counted the number, and worked out how frequently to stop and have a snack. This gave me a ‘sandwiches per kilometre’ number that was quite low and would really punctuate the bicycle ride with pauses to munch.
I stopped for a sandwich a little further down the road.
There wasn’t much of a breeze on this ride, but it had been a cold start. Bib-longs and arm-warmers had been taken from the bottom of the drawer where they’d been since last winter. I began to notice that the calves of the lycra were flapping around my legs, and the elastic had broken on the thighs too. Ah ha – I recalled reaching the end of last winter’s riding and thinking I needed to replace them as worn out, but waiting for the summer sales to buy winter gear… sadly I hadn’t bought winter gear. A few kilometres down the road was Tattenhall, and I was out of water. The local shop sold me a coffee, bottle of water, and a croissant – which I ate while standing in the warmth of the mid-morning sun.
Just south of Tattenshall at Wrenbury, the road crosses the Llangollen Canal, with a short cantilever bridge. It is clearly a well used bridge due to the traffic signals either side. These little sights keep adding to the sense of being on a delightful ride.
A road closure over the railway line near Aston added a couple of bonus kilometres looping along a narrow and muddy lane to Pinsley Green. There were so many other leisure cyclists out today, I passed someone along here, and a group of half a dozen women came whizzing in the other direction: riding in a side-by-side group. The friendliness of all the other cyclists was top-notch: everyone waved hello cheerfully.
At Market Drayton, the half-way point, I stopped at the Hideaway Cafe on Cheshire Street. Their coffee and carrot cake was delicious, I also had one of my sandwiches, but not while sat at the cafe table. A dark cloud blew over the town as I prepared to leave and the temperature dropped really quickly – but thankfully briefly as it passed.
Turning north west, my plan was to eat again at Holt, but I didn’t make it. After only 25 kilometres my body was moaning. I think it was complaining about the slight rise into Malpas, so I stopped for another coffee and another of my sandwiches at the Co-Op. An elderly lady with her bicycle told me all about her knee replacement operation while I was a captive audience.
I felt much stronger after this and found myself spinning along nicely to Holt, and a very brief border crossing into Wales. I only really had time to notice I was in Wales before I crossed back over the river Dee into Farndon and saw the Welcome to Cheshire / England sign. I love visiting Wales on Mike Wigley’s audaxes… even if briefly.
I continued slightly north of Tattenshall and began to hear the noise of motorbikes; British Superbikes to be accurate. As I reached Oulton Park, I took a detour over the track and caught a glimpse of the riders screaming by on the other side of a chain-link fence. I loved the noise, it sent a tingle of excitement down my spine as it grew and grew until a superbike would flash into view, before disappearing under the bridge. I know what it feels like to ride a motorbike, and I longed to have a go… but I couldn’t, and although I wanted to stop and watch these practice laps, I pedalled back over the bridge and out of the circuit. I move at a more human powered pace.
Not much further I reminded myself to eat another sandwich, and finding the gate to a field open, I rolled off the road for some silence. I was surprised to see a field of purple, yellow, and white flowers stretching before me, and glancing into the hedgerow where my bike lent, I saw brambles beginning to ripen. You don’t get these sights when you’re racing.
Over the last 50km, there was always somewhere convenient to eat a sandwich, or pull into a shop for a drink. I never felt isolated, while at the same time I was conscious just how nice it was to cycle away from the main roads. With only 25km to go I crossed the Weaver Navigation: two bridges, one which seems to be an operating swing bridge. Immediately after this are two railway tunnels and I tested their acoustics by singing for an echo. Out the other side I met a man walking his dog: he said, “You’re nearly there”. He perhaps was referring to the gravel climb, but he wasn’t wrong about the ride.
More lanes into Wilmslow, and then my favourite bit of starting at Dean Row: finishing at Dean Row. There’s no need to ride anywhere near Poynton, and all the over distance that would accumulate. My body was tired, but I was happy. I think this is my new favourite 200km route.