Saturday, July 7 – Llangollen – Chester – Bolton

The last day!  The sun’s rays slanted through the bedroom window, another glorious day.  During breakfast a rapid change took place.  The sky grew black and rain came down in torrents.  Thunder rolled and shattered amongst the hills, and lightening flashed and played on the mountain tops, for half an hour pandemonium reined, then the sky became brighter and the timid sun peeped out again.  Starting, we turned through the town and gained the Wrexham road.  All at once the rain came again with renewed force and we made a dive for our capes, and half an hour was spent inside them.  Trevor village was set behind, and as we climbed out of the Vale of Llangollen, we caught a glimpse of Castell Dinas Bran, perched on its unmistakeable 1,000ft peak, then the capes came off as we climbed out of Acrefair.

Joining the Shrewsbury road we entered Ruabon, and left the scenery behind.  Soon we joined the tram lines at Johnston, and for the rest of the way to Wrexham we bumped along a ‘not so good’ road.  The narrow streets of Wrexham were awkwardly jammed with traffic, and when we got out of the place, we found ourselves lost.  Out came the map, and we discovered we were on the Holt-Farndon road.  We could get to Chester that way, however, so we pressed on.  Now we were in Cheshire, with its level, excellent roads…. Cheshire, my favourite County.  Another downpour of rain sent us scuttling under the capes again.  Holt was now ticked off, then the old, historic Farndon Bridge over the River Dee, into Farndon.  Here we promptly lost our way, again, but a bylane put us right once more.

At Churton our capes came off, and after an hour of intermittent rain, it cleared up altogether.  Beyond Aldford we approached the River Dee, and until Chester we were almost alongside it.  In the narrow streets of Chester we met a couple of prominent Bolton CTC riders, but in a traffic jam we lost them and didn’t see them again.  At Mickle Trafford, a little cottage provided us with a good lunch.  When we started off in the afternoon, the sun came down as hot as ever, the roads were soon as dusty as ever, and we perspired as much as ever.  The usual road to Warrington was taken, and soon dirty, familiar Leigh and Atherton hove in sight.  These were soon set behind, and after a few miles of bumpy roads, our tour ended….  the best form of holidaying.

65 miles, 8 hours

 

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