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© 2005 Three Owls Bird Sanctuary
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Post: The 2011 Manchester to Blackpool Bike Ride
22 years and counting
By John Thorpe
I was probably more concerned about this year's ride than any in my 22 years of participation, due to my lack of preparation and my advancing years (he said, frantically appealing for sympathy!), and as if to rub salt in the wound, my son's girlfriend, Ishani, took part in the London to Oxford Ride and did a very respectable time, given that she had never done it before. Well, she's a lot younger than I am! Seriously though, I couldn't recommend entering a long ride without proper preparation, but sometimes a man's gotta do
. Well you know the rest.
My preparations weren't helped my a problem with a cracked rear wheel rim which made it highly dangerous to use it, and the fact that it only arrived on the Saturday before the ride left me working late to fit and check it. My thanks to Darren of Pilkington Cycles, who's looked after my bike for many years now. At least my steed was 100% fit, and I set off at 5.30 on Sunday morning, but not before my loving wife Karen had got up specially to take pictures of me with my little 'helmet cam' camera on (she couldn't stop laughing!) For posterity, or possibly in case the insurance company needed evidence before paying up! With Nigel's assistance I got the camera up and running, and decided to see if we could capture something of the flavour of the open road and the groans of agony!
At the Manchester United Football Ground, I had a photo taken with my friend Rick, the famous yellow-suited 'Voice of the Ride', who gave me a 'plug' over the tannoy, and set off at 6.35am. I must confess, I much prefer the starting of the Town Hall Square, for both atmosphere and ease of access, and can't quite see the benefit of the change. With helmet cam switched on I eased myself gently into the ride, and came aware that doing a commentary whilst riding invites some strange looks from fellow riders, who could be forgiven for thinking that one is cracking up and rambling! Come to think of it, I've been doing that for years according to my wife. To anyone who was in the Ride and recognises the man with the strange protuberance on his helmet (people are making up their own jokes now!), I really wasn't talking to myself.
My ride number was 3079 this year (bit of a come-down from No. 1 isn't it?), and according to the ride organisers there were around 8,300 entrants. It certainly felt like it I can tell you. Working our way out of Manchester always a good thing I find, we headed out on quiet roads to Leigh and Atherton, heading north through Aspul, and passing the entrance to lovely Haigh Hall at 8.50. I took a fifteen-minute break from 8.25 to 8.45 near the entrance, since we weren't riding through the grounds again this year. It's such a shame that the ride misses out this traditional part of the course, as it's not only beautiful and uplifting, but allows tired legs to rest, as the path descends steeply through the woods. I must write to the organisers and complain, again!
Our merry 'band of brothers' (and sisters) wended its way northwest to Standish then due north to Charnock Richard before going west and then north to Leyland and Preston. The number of hills this time seemed greater, and the course definitely took in more uphill than last year; a fact I confirmed with a couple of older, regular competitors who rode it in 2010. Every time I turned a corner there seemed to be another hill, and the leg muscles certainly complained loudly! Mind you, I'm not a great hill climber at the best of times, and by the time we reached Preston at around 10.45, they'd taken their toll. On the long and not so winding road into Preston, which was still never-ending, but at least dry and not too windy this year, I witnessed some of the most blatantly stupid and arrogant riding I've seen in twenty-two years. A group of around forty or fifty riders spread all over one side of the road, totally blocking it and frustrating following drivers, some of whom crossed into oncoming traffic to get round them. There was no reason or excuse for it, other than to imitate scenes in the Tour de France; which in case these numbskulls didn't know, is run on roads closed to traffic not fully operational ones! Someone could have been injured or killed, and it certainly didn't present a good image to the public. Shame there were no motorbike marshals around.
Our route skirted the Preston Docks area this year, unlike previous years, and took a different route out towards the Fylde. I took a fifteen-minute break from 10.45 11.00 and transferred some of the weight of food and drink from the saddlebag to my stomach. Of course the bike still has to carry the weight anyway, but at least I felt better! I think it was about this point that an energetic and enthusiastic Marshall at a large roundabout greeted us as we sped by (who am I kidding?!) With an athletic dance and the repeated words Come on lads, dig in, dig in! I know he meant well, but I couldn't help thinking someone would dismount and dig him in before the morning was over!
From here, we rode west to Kirkham, through Treales, another small and pretty Fylde village, then south to Freckleton and west to Warton. At this point, most of the hardy souls who rode last year knew what was coming up, and were gritting our remaining teeth (just kidding I've still got most of mine and most of my original moving parts!) in anticipation of the infamous costal stretch to Lytham St. Annes. This, though beautiful if one is taking a bracing stroll with the wife or the dog, is a killer on a bike, as the wind is constant and sometimes, as last year, so strong it actually stops a rider and blows one back.
Around this point, a couple on a tandem bike, spying friends on the roadside on a right hand bend, stopped in front of me with no warning, and pulled over for a jolly chat! I narrowly missed a collision, and shouted cheerfully that perhaps their mental competence and ability were questionable! Or words to that effect.
The next few miles were definitely 'head down and think of the finish line' time. Although the wind wasn't as strong as in 2010, it was bad enough, and the piles of wind-blown sand decorating bungalow drives were reminders of its potential strength. Eventually, we swung onto the Promenade in Blackpool, and the finish line with its large white banner was in sight. As I crossed the line I caught the eye of my friend 'The Voice of the Ride' in his little white booth (I threw his eye back as a matter of courtesy of course!), and waved as energetically as I could. He saw me, and announced on the tannoy, I've just seen my friend, rider 3079 who's now completed twenty-two Blackpool rides. The assembled crowd went wild, and at least three people burst into spontaneous applause as I nimbly grabbed my yellow carrier bag full of 'goodies' this year and my certificate of completion from a rather nice young lady well, when you stop noticing things like that it's time to nail down the lid on the box! 'Goodies' this year included a malt loaf, water, shower gel, muscle rub sachet, energy gel sachet and energy bar. I ate and drank everything edible with relish (pity about the shower gel, but at least I had fresh minty breath!). I crossed the line at 12.50, making a total of 5hrs and 45 minutes (excluding breaks), and with the rides to and from Manchester, I covered a total of over 80 miles, getting home at around 5.30.
The weather on the whole, was better than expected, apart from a few showers, and I was pleased that I completed safely in a modest but reasonable time. All the sponsorship raised will help us continue our work with the Reserve and conservation work, and I thank you for supporting my humble efforts. I'll be back in 2012 with luck, and try to make it twenty-three rides in a row.
Pre: The 2011 Manchester to Blackpool Bike Ride
By John Thorpe
Nigel has asked me to write my usual piece on the Manchester to Blackpool bike Ride, and although, as you can possibly imagine, it is incredibly hard to be positive in the light of what has happened at Three Owls, I will do my best. The ride is on Sunday July 10th this year and is the same duration as last years' event, as far as I know, around 60 miles to and from my Bury home. This will be the 22nd consecutive year I've done, and I really must get into training well before the event this year, as I've become a bit lazy since my motorcycle came back into regular usage! It's easy to think that the muscles will automatically respond when called upon, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that a lack of physical fitness will find you out somewhere along the way. I feel an even bigger responsibility this year, since my sons girlfriend has decided to follow my example and take part in the London to Oxford ride for the first time, as a result of the enthusiastic experiences I've had!
As we all know, the wonderful hospital and rehabilitation work is no more, and the world is so much poorer because of this. All of us who knew and loved the sanctuary will never forget the unique role it played not only in wild bird welfare but perhaps in our individual lives. I was privileged to be actively involved, albeit on a part-time basis, and the void it has left in my life will possibly never be completely filled. I can only imagine how bereaved Nigel, Len and the staff felt, and since we are now at a stage where most of the work of dismantling the sanctuary and preparing the grounds for sale has been completed, a strange silence has settled on it. No doubt this year there will be birdsong and new life on the Reserve and surrounding area, and this is one of the few rays of hope in an otherwise dark time for everyone. The Reserve is, more than ever, an oasis in an increasingly urbanised landscape, and as such, has to be both preserved and improved over time.
We need your support and goodwill more than ever now, and I know that you won't let us down, even in the face of difficult economic times for everyone. Every penny you can spare will help keep the Reserve in existence, and if I've learned one thing from this whole sorry business, it is that we can never take anything completely for granted nothing is immune to damage and destruction especially, it appears, things which represent decency and dedication. The charity still lives and breathes, and the same spirit that drove Mrs Watkinson to give her life to care for birds, is still alive and well. The past months have been traumatic for all concerned, and I would like to express my admiration for the way in which Nigel, his family, and Len have conducted themselves through it all. They deserve better and perhaps one day people will realise just what an injustice has been done at Three Owls.
I will be proud to ride on the Sanctuary's behalf in July, and with your help, the day will once again prove a symbol of the Three Owls Spirit that will never die as long as we care.
Please click on the link to open and print the official Sponsor Form, which I'd be grateful if you could complete and return to the Sanctuary at the usual address
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