Seven EOs - but very nearly only 5 bicycles. Robert had failed to notice a speed bump in Stewarton which left the bicycle rack holding his and Davie's bike hanging at a precarious angle from the rear of his car.
The weather at 9.30 am was wet and dreich and we all wondered why Davie had not been phoning around to cancel the cycle run. Still, the forecast was for an improvement and we chose to delay our departure in the hope of ameliorating conditions and headed off towards the Centre for a coffee, only to be informed en route that the the cafe didn't open till 10 am. Your correspondent headed off back to his car, to change into shorts, and found it odd that no one else had returned to their bikes. Eventually he spotted Johnny waving frantically from the door of the centre and upon rejoining him found that the rest of the group was tucking into a variety of cakes and biscuits and awaiting the serving of coffee. Quite what charms had been used to elicit this unexpected service can only be speculated upon by your correspondent.
The delayed departure proved to be a wise move because when we emerged from the Centre, filled with coffee, chocolate crisps, banana sponge and goodness knows what else, the rain had more or less stopped .... and the rest of the day proved to be rain-free other than for the very lightest smirr.
Off we set heading north along the route of the old Dalry & North Johnstone Line with Robert immediately steaming on ahead. Had no one told him that this would be a marathon rather than a sprint? There were pleasing glimpses of the loch, and 'The Temple', a folly, which was constructed on Kenmore Hill in 1770, was sighted by those not pedalling nose-to-handlebars. At one point a buzzard swooped low just ahead of us on the track.
Our first halt on an old railway bridge brought forth the expression of a little discomfiture from Johnny. He thought his saddle needed adjustment. Robert was quick to diagnose the problem as 'lack of f***ing preparation'. Ronnie, on the other hand, delved into his tool kit; a tool kit sufficiently equipped to rebuild a complete bicycle. (Why do cyclists buy ultra light bicycles and then load half a ton of scrap iron into their tool kits?)
Without getting too technical Ronnie appeared to take the saddle apart and put it back together again. The only difference your correspondent could discern was that Johnny now appeared to be in grave danger of sliding off the back of the saddle onto the rear wheel of his bike.
Davie too was having trouble. He reckoned that his legs seemed to be too long for his pedals - wisely he chose to adjust the height of his saddle rather than the length of his legs.
Onward we pedalled, skirting Kilbarchan and the northern edge of Johnstone.
Our second halt was also on an old railway bridge and again Johnny expressed some discomfiture in the nether regions. This time a little more vehemently. Suggestions were made that Johnny should nip back to the Morrison's store we had just passed and buy a £59.99 bike - keep the new saddle and dump the rest of the bike in the river - which appeared to be a local custom. Ronnie, however, was not to be deterred. The rest of us stood around in awe as he set about his task of taking apart Johnny's saddle and reconstructing it. It was suggested that Rex should be filming all this for an instructional video on bicycle maintenance. Ronnie's secret this time appeared to be to take everything apart and then reassemble it in a different order. (This works for me with IKEA furniture.)
A perceptive passing friendly native helpfully told us where the nearest bicycle repair shop was.
Having refitted the saddle, Ronnie and Johnny then set about adjusting Johnny's front brakes. The need for adjustment appeared to be a consequence of the saddle adjustment. At this stage it was becoming all too technical and high powered for your correspondent and instead he turned his attention to the shopping trolleys and bikes in the river under the bridge.
Off we set again. At Elderslie we made a rare diversion onto a public road. The Wallace Tavern was spotted. Does anyone know who this Mr Wallace was?
We were soon back on the old railway line and after a couple of miles arrived at Paisley Canal Street station! Facing us was Saucel Hill, rising up to its full height of 42 metres, and with some difficulty we pushed our bikes over the grass to the summit, which afforded a fine panoramic view of Paisley and its environs.
Since a picture is said to be worth a thousand words, here's a picture:
...and here's one of Rex's pictures, posed as we pored over the map, pretending to be lost:
L-R: Robert, Ian, Davie, Ronnie, Paul, Johnny
As we took in the view, there was discussion about where we should go next. Paul suggested the Erskine Bridge. Johnny suggested Lochwinnoch.
So Glasgow it was.
Some of the more daring in the party descended the hill on their bikes, the more sensible pushed. A short ride along a road took us to a more open but also more dodgy area: Injun Territory. However no braves could be seen lining the tops of the grassy slopes which rose up to our right and so we pedalled on at full speed. We passed a host of derelict buildings on the site of the Hawkhead Hospital for Infectious Diseases. This site is now being developed for luxury homes but it looked as if the credit crunch has taken its toll.
And then it was along the banks of the White Cart and over a bridge from which had been dumped, surprise surprise, shopping trolleys, bicycles and traffic cones. Soon we were in Pollok Park, where we had decided to lunch.
A costume drama was being filmed close to Pollok House and Davie took exception to the Extra's sign posted on a couple of the caravans on the set.
We had lunch outside the House at a couple of ideally situated picnic tables alongside the White Cart. The eagle-eyed amongst us spotted a pair of kingfishers flying up the river - a first for Ian - and we were unanimous in our expressions of regret that Jimmy had missed this rare treat.
After lunch arty-farty photographs were taken on the steps outside Pollok House, evidence of which can be seen in Bob's photo above. At one time the intention had been to visit the Burrell Collection but in the event we decided to give it a miss.
The return journey? Well it was like the outgoing journey, only in the opposite direction.
The group split up badly on the return as the miles began to take their toll on some legs and glutei maximi (I hope that's the plural, Davie).
For those in the lead, not that it was a race at all, Davie provided some protection against the wind as he pulled the main peloton along. However, once his usefulness was over he was dropped by Ronnie and Rex as they made a breakaway, pulling out of his slipstream and opening up a substantial gap as Paul tried to hold on to Davie's rear wheel.
Paul then pulled away from Davie and started to close the gap on the leaders as the finishing line came into view, not that it was a race at all, and in the last few metres the gap was closed.
The final résultat de l'étape, not that it was a race at all:
1 Thompson R 3:02:24
2 Porter R même temps
3 Crankshaw P même temps
4 McMeekin D à 25 secondes
5 McGarry R à 3:17 minutes
6 Hill I à 5:13 minutes
7 Matthews J même temps
Not that it was a race at all.
Refreshments were taken in the Corner Bar at Lochwinnoch. We settled in the snug. It was so snug that Rex had to go into the Ladies' toilet in order to take group photograph.
Postscript
In the evening, Paul, Johnny, Ronnie, Alan and Rex enjoyed the splendid hospitality of Davie and Kay as they watched Manchester United being humiliated by Barcelona in the Champions' League final.
2 comments:
Great report Paul!
Watch out Jimmy!
Johnny
I enjoyed your report Paul, tittered ocassionally. It is great that we have a suitable deputy when our trusted and valued repoter is unavailable. We are now fortunate that several ooters contribute frequently.
Bob ( of the sore bum,gradually fading )
Post a Comment