Post: This was another gentle potter of 90 miles, in which Cheshire is well and truly crossed hither and thither. A good way to properly christen the new bike was it not ?
On days like this Charlie was very descriptive, and we all benefit from his ability to describe the country he passes through beautifully. And no panics today.
Sunday, May 10 Pennsylvania
We had arranged for a potter somewhere in Cheshire today, our arrangements being Broomedge, 9am, meaning a 7.30 start for both of us. It is now an understood thing to start early during the summer months, not so much for distance as for getting clear of the towns and main roads before the traffic becomes too objectionable. [Whatever would he have made of the traffic in 2010?]. I had a shock when I discovered that the time was 7.45am on awakening, and had to get a move on, leaving home at 8.15. I knew I should be late, for it is a sheer impossibility for me to cover those 20 miles in 45 minutes, but by pushing on as fast as possible, I arrived at 9.30, and so, after apologies, we made a start together, plunging into the quiet lanes immediately.
The weather was warm and the outlook for the day seemed good, although that was little to worry about, but the evidences of Spring being fully awakened made the world seem a wonderful place to live in and us seem privileged above most others to enjoy it fully. We pedalled along chatting over each new scene as it came in sight round the next bend. Some people say we are always in Cheshire. If they saw and loved this County Palatine as we do, they would be like us, and would never have enough of those twisting byways, old world hamlets and shady woodlands. Rural Great Budworth came into being; we passed slowly down its one narrow street, crossed the main road at the bottom, and with Budworth mere below us, carried on to Comberbach and the lanes again. Little Leigh now, then an old track over an extremely rough and muddy surface, with a sheer fall to the Weaver Valley; across, then up to Acton Bridge, and the climbing road from Crowton to Norley brought us into the wooded precincts of Delamere Forest. The main road from Hatchmere was fast, bounding us along to Chester road at the Abbey Arms, where we crossed this motorist’s speedway and very soon reached Cotebrook.
Byways again, sweet-smelling, tree clad byways lined with quaint ‘wattle and daub’ cottages, whose gardens displayed a beautiful and varied array of flowers, sent us comfortably along to Tiverton cross-roads, and then, dropping downhill with venerable old Beeston Castle before us, we halted for lunch at Beeston Brook. We stayed over an hour here, then, at 1pm we took to the road again, climbing up to Beeston Smithy. The afternoon had turned out sunny and calm, but a heat mist enshrouded the more distant views, whilst the scenery and warmth was making us want to potter. Rounding the foot of the woody slope on which stand the turrets and castellated walls of Peckforton, half castle, half mansion, we came to the gateway leading to the estate, and immediately entered the beautiful woods. The track was chiefly stones and very deep mud, but what matters how rough the way, or how muddy and wet we get so long as the scenery is good? The best lies off the beaten track. We sat down on some wooden railings, to listen to the life of the woods, to review the kaleidoscope of colour – the tender greenery of leaves and grass, the russet brown of leaves that are dead, on trees not yet awakened, to admire the setting of a little cottage, its black timbering and whitened bricks showing vividly against a dark setting of trees, to watch the slow progress of some insect along a tree-trunk, and the speedy flight of birds. One could have stayed here for ever!
Then to the little row of quaint homesteads marked on the map as Pennsylvania, and to Upper Burwardsley, from where the head of Peckforton Gap was reached. A sandy, precipitous scramble downhill brought us to the road along the foot of the range. A change now was coming over, the black clouds rolling towards us, giving a queer silence and semi-darkness. ‘Ne’r cast a clout till May is out’ as we recalled the old adage. We rode towards the darkness, then at Bickerton, branched on to a dirt road, which developed into a mudbath before we regained the tarred road at Bunbury, a typical Cheshire village. An adventure with a hen which touched my front wheel and flew screaming away unhurt marked our progress down to Highwayside, where we found the black clouds had gone and left wet roads behind. Quite moderate scenery fell to us during our next ramble through the lanes until Eaton, picturesque as ever was reached, and glorious little byways along by Oulton Park, where primroses and violets held sway in the hedge sides, brought us to Little Budworth.
We now remembered our tea, and urged our wheels more quickly to Vale Royal and Whitegate, then reached Chester road at Sandiway. It is but a short road down to quaint, dirty Northwich, but we saw more motor vehicles then than we had all day. We discovered that the cinder road between Witton Flashes had subsided, making the two huge lakes into one, but decided to carry on. It is a rather eerie experience riding through six inches of water and knowing that a few feet on each side might be – was – several feet deep, and not being sure that the road had not cracked! Anyway, except for wet feet we came out alright and passed on to Great Budworth, discovering here that our pet tea place had been invaded by motorists. Motorists and us do not get on so well together, so to avoid the usual arguments we carried on to Arley Green. The last time we called here was at the end of my summer holidays last July, when one visitor broke his ankle and we had to rush to Budworth to call out the doctor. The incoherent story we put to the doctor, due to inadequate information given to us at the time, had not ended well. The ankle apparently had been set wrong and it had to be done again, as we now discovered, and its owner now had a limp. Curiously enough the patient was here again today but wasn’t about at the time of our visit.
It was a fine little place and in beautiful scenery. Leaving by the park road to Arley, we followed a wayward path, and eventually reached that fine moated mansion, Swineyard Hall, which Tom photographed. High Legh reached, we dropped down to Broomedge and Heatley, then joined the ‘tons’ road via Warburton, Partington, (fine views of the steelworks across the Ship Canal), Carrington and Flixton. It almost takes an expert to follow the route afterwards traversed, to Urmston and Barton. We parted at Patricroft, thoroughly satisfied with the potter. 90 miles
