Day 8: Chester to Slaidburn (84.12 miles)

The main job today is to navigate our way between Liverpool and Manchester, with all the urban areas between them, and it looks like a mass of A roads on the map. I’m in a grumpy mood before we’ve even started at the prospect.

In reality the day is a pleasant surprise, but it does start on a dual carriageway A road, exactly as I’d envisaged the whole day (despite a surreal moment when there’s no traffic in either direction other than us). We reach Northwich, and head towards Lymm. We’re making good time, so take a mile’s detour to Mere, where we stop at a hotel where Al kept the gardens for five years.

After wandering round the gardens, being told about how they’ve changed since Al was here, we head towards Leigh on a mixture of minor roads, B roads, and quieter A roads. Lunch is pies from Greggs crouched on Leigh High St., wondering how long until the black clouds ahead will take to start raining on us.

The ride into Bolton is fast and busy, but it’s city riding that I’m used to, and the road to Blackburn, over the moor, turns out not to be busy and surprisingly pleasant, even when the rain comes. We drop down from the moor into Blackburn, past Ewood Park, before a few problems finding our way out towards Clitheroe, and it feels like the day I’ve been dreading is done, and wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared.

The road up to Slaidburn is tough, and even though the rain has eased off, we finish the climb in mist on the top.

Arriving in Slaidburn at the youth hostel, we find not only the army lads from Chester, but are amazed to bump into the Flanders from our first night! We swap stories of our progress and problems, and when I tell them about my broken spoke, I’m unsurprised to hear that the Dad not only fixed a broken spoke on the road, but was carrying a chain whip to boot…

Next to the youth hostel is a pub which we’re directed to for dinner, the ‘Hark to Bounty’. I’m hungry, and definitely ready for a pint, so we get cleaned up and changed, and quickly head over. It quickly becomes clear that this is going to be something special. The four real ales on the bar look very promising, and the food smells amazing. The place doesn’t disappoint, we particularly enjoy drinking ‘Pride of Pendle’, and for the only night of the ride, we break our two pint rule to have a half of Theakston’s ‘Old Peculiar’ at the end of the night. Our only regret is that we didn’t realise that you could stay in the pub – we realise this as the army lads have been visited by their army WAGS, and much to our amusement are busy trying to book rooms at the pub rather than their dormitory beds at the youth hostel. There clearly aren’t enough to go round, and negotiations are long and protracted.

All this keeps us entertained, and we have a great meal after a satisfying day’s cycling. We’re definitely in the North of England now, over the half-way point in terms of days, and Scotland is only a couple of days away. We’re starting to feel this really is possible.

We’ve cycled 537.87 miles.