Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
We passed through the town of Farndon, which hosts the National 24-hour Cycling
Championship. The winners tend to rack up mileage of over 500 miles in just a 24-hour
period. This is quite astonishing considering we were covering about 60 miles in an eight
hour day. The prospect of doing three of these stints back to back, at three times the pace,
was incomprehensible. I hate proper athletes. They make the rest of us just look rubbish.
We reached Chester and were a little disappointed to discover that its occupants didn't
all look like the cast of Hollyoaks.
On the occasions that we passed through other town centres along the way, we had both
feltaslightfeelingofclaustrophobiaandadesiretogetbackintothecountryside.Thiswas
partlybecausecyclinginurbanareasissomuchmoredemanding,andalsobecausepeople
in towns tended to be more hesitant and suspicious of us. Chester felt different somehow.
The town itself is very striking with its mixture of Roman, Medieval, Victorian and Tudor
architecture. Thestreetswerealsopackedwithtouristswalkingthestreetsaimlessly,sowe
fitted in perfectly.
Chester was the last English town to fall to William the Conqueror, and it has the most
complete city walls in Britain. Two facts that I am sure you will be thrilled with.
Despite all of the history and culture on offer, we had hunger issues so called into Sub-
way to try our luck. Craig, the friendly South-African manager, offered us a foot long sub
and a drink each. We ate half there and then, and stashed the other half away to eat on the
road. I mean that figuratively, of course; we didn't eat our food off the tarmac.
On the way out of town, we called into a bike shop called The Bike Factory, where a
man kindly oiled our bikes and tightened Ben's brakes.
'Thecycling'sfairlygrimbetweenhereandtheLakeDistrict,'hewarned.'You'rehead-
ing right into the heart of all the industry around Merseyside. Be careful, because the cars
don't have much time for cyclists around there.'
Justafewminutes afterleaving Chester wewerebackinthebeautiful countryside, with
the ugly sprawl of the industrial Ellesmere Port visible in the distance.
'Maybe our route avoids all that ugly stuff,' suggested Ben.
'I hope so,' I said, 'but I don't think it does.'
'I desperately need some shorts,' I said to Ben. 'My balls are unbearably uncomfort-
able.'
'No kidding. I don't know how you've lasted so long in those ridiculous trousers. I
only managed a couple of days in those tracksuit bottoms and they were quite comfy. You
should've cut the legs off those long ago.'
Ten days of wearing thick woollen suit trousers had finally taken its toll and the sweat-
ing, chafing and itching had become excruciating.
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