At last the long awaited time had arrived. As usual rain had fallen for several days, and today was no exception, although it was fine for a time. At 4.15am we were on the road, and taking the Chorley New Road we soon reached Horwich. At Adlington the rain started and capes were donned, but at Chorley they were put away again. All went well until we reached Lancaster Road, beyond Preston, where, of course, it started to rain again. On went the capes, and this time they stayed on. We splashed along cheerfully, through Brock and Garstang, little pools forming in our shoes, and in the hollows of our capes a perfect sea rolled.
When we reached Galgate, the train bearing our friends came by, and we started to try and race it. From Scotforth we dropped down into Lancaster, which run my pal celebrated by a star turn with the tram lines, after which we got lost. I have been several times before but always seem to get mixed up here. Righting ourselves we squelched onwards and at length reached the worst patch of road I have ridden this year. That Road! I would not care to divulge the praise (?) that was spoken about that road during the next twenty minutes, as we dodged the large pits and got stuck in the tramlines, all the while a deluge was pouring upon us. We could certainly have walked it as quickly.
Anyway, we got it over, and running through Torrisholme we reached Morecambe just as the train was steaming in at 8.15am. We were soaking wet through, and we had to go to the other end of the town for our luggage. Well, we have arrived, and we shall see the sort of week we are to have. San fairi Ann.
46 miles, 4 hours