Saturday 4th August 2007. Leg 6: Oswestry to Ainsdale.
Managed quite an early start: 09:00.
Whittington 10:00 (ruined castle). Ruined castles have long held a fascination for me. Georgina is flatly unimpressed.
Wrexham Little Chef 12:00. We flouted the system. Didn’t wait to be seated. Just found a seat by the window where we could watch the bikes. Consequently the waitresses struggled to come to terms with this anarchic approach. Caused similar havoc as we left, ‘cos I thought we could just pay at the till, but no, it appeared you have to “ask for the bill” first. Things would be a whole lot simpler if they were just self-service. Or why not go one step further and let you cook your own meal in their kitchen? Just think of the cost-savings.
Hawarden, toilet stop at the Glynne Arms, and lunch on the wall opposite 14:00 hours, watching guests make their way down the road to a nearby wedding. A latecomer got out of the car and asked us if we were locals, we answered honestly, and he didn’t probe further. Had he asked “Where’s the wedding?” we would have been able to point him in the direction whence the sound of the bells were coming.
A550 across the base of the Wirral was, in places, a nice dual (or should that be duel?). We found our place on the two-foot shoulder, and at one point enjoyed undertaking some traffic which was held up in a road-works induced tail-back.
“I’ll be with you in my own time” – Family.
At length, the A550 led us to the A41 up the Wirral. Georgina’s “Dad, Birkenhead six and a half!” caused me to come to a sudden stop. What I heard was “Dad, me chain’s come off!” After coming to an understanding we were off again.
Arrived at Woodside Ferry terminal 16:00. Next ferry not for 40 minutes. Time to photograph the preserved tram and replica submarine (‘Resurgam’, which unfortunately turned out to be a misnomer), and slump in a nice leather armchair. Bad news that the restaurant closed early to prepare for a function in the evening. Had a bit of a browse through the display of Mersey ferries through the ages.
Watched the “Royal Daffodil” come in and tie up before taking our bikes on board. There is now a piped soundtrack, ending with the Gerry and the Pacemakers song. A bit of a shame that this once vital mode of transport has been reduced to a novelty tourist attraction. Anyway, we used it to get from A to B (actually from B to L).
On the Liverpool shore, we parked up next to the Cunard building, under the watchful left eye of a Liver bird. We watched smugly as a pair of traffic wardens ticketed away, but of course did not trouble us.
Then we cycled out of the city along the scarcely inhabited dock road. Garmin was asked to navigate on-road, which he dutifully did, but occasionally would advise us to turn up side streets just to locate a misplaced way-point. Eventually switched navigation off completely after he got a bit insistent on us doing ‘U’ turns. By this time we out of the city and heading towards golf-course land.
Arriving at the campsite at Ainsdale at a respectable 7 p.m. Not such a bad day.
Weather quite overcast most of the day, but very warm, with a following wind. Buzzard count down to one, but a couple of kestrels and another unfortunate flattened fox.
Distance covered: 64.1 miles
Moving time: 06:28
Average speed: 9.9 mph
Maximum speed: 23.9 mph.
Managed quite an early start: 09:00.
Whittington 10:00 (ruined castle). Ruined castles have long held a fascination for me. Georgina is flatly unimpressed.
Wrexham Little Chef 12:00. We flouted the system. Didn’t wait to be seated. Just found a seat by the window where we could watch the bikes. Consequently the waitresses struggled to come to terms with this anarchic approach. Caused similar havoc as we left, ‘cos I thought we could just pay at the till, but no, it appeared you have to “ask for the bill” first. Things would be a whole lot simpler if they were just self-service. Or why not go one step further and let you cook your own meal in their kitchen? Just think of the cost-savings.
Hawarden, toilet stop at the Glynne Arms, and lunch on the wall opposite 14:00 hours, watching guests make their way down the road to a nearby wedding. A latecomer got out of the car and asked us if we were locals, we answered honestly, and he didn’t probe further. Had he asked “Where’s the wedding?” we would have been able to point him in the direction whence the sound of the bells were coming.
A550 across the base of the Wirral was, in places, a nice dual (or should that be duel?). We found our place on the two-foot shoulder, and at one point enjoyed undertaking some traffic which was held up in a road-works induced tail-back.
“I’ll be with you in my own time” – Family.
At length, the A550 led us to the A41 up the Wirral. Georgina’s “Dad, Birkenhead six and a half!” caused me to come to a sudden stop. What I heard was “Dad, me chain’s come off!” After coming to an understanding we were off again.
Arrived at Woodside Ferry terminal 16:00. Next ferry not for 40 minutes. Time to photograph the preserved tram and replica submarine (‘Resurgam’, which unfortunately turned out to be a misnomer), and slump in a nice leather armchair. Bad news that the restaurant closed early to prepare for a function in the evening. Had a bit of a browse through the display of Mersey ferries through the ages.
Watched the “Royal Daffodil” come in and tie up before taking our bikes on board. There is now a piped soundtrack, ending with the Gerry and the Pacemakers song. A bit of a shame that this once vital mode of transport has been reduced to a novelty tourist attraction. Anyway, we used it to get from A to B (actually from B to L).
On the Liverpool shore, we parked up next to the Cunard building, under the watchful left eye of a Liver bird. We watched smugly as a pair of traffic wardens ticketed away, but of course did not trouble us.
Then we cycled out of the city along the scarcely inhabited dock road. Garmin was asked to navigate on-road, which he dutifully did, but occasionally would advise us to turn up side streets just to locate a misplaced way-point. Eventually switched navigation off completely after he got a bit insistent on us doing ‘U’ turns. By this time we out of the city and heading towards golf-course land.
Arriving at the campsite at Ainsdale at a respectable 7 p.m. Not such a bad day.
Weather quite overcast most of the day, but very warm, with a following wind. Buzzard count down to one, but a couple of kestrels and another unfortunate flattened fox.
Distance covered: 64.1 miles
Moving time: 06:28
Average speed: 9.9 mph
Maximum speed: 23.9 mph.
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