Friday 5th to Sunday 8th September 2025.
What a weekend that was. There are currently three of us Midaircrisis folk that "qualify" for an NMBC Old Fa£ts Birthday Ride. These became annual events some years back when the Midaircrisis Missile, Ian Browning, hit big figures (60!). I followed him a few years later and since then we've had some memorable birthday rides, most of them single day outings with big turnouts. Unfortunately neither Ian nor latest qualifier Terry Hewison managed to participate this year so that just left me. And because this one coincided with a relative biggie, my 75th, I intended to maximise the opportunity as realistically I may not get m(any) more.
THE CLOT WITH THE PLOT
This would have been much more difficult to plan, and a great deal more costly, without the amazing Mr Steven Bowden Esquire. What a man. Since his move away from Tyneside to sunny Cheshire for work some MTB seasons ago he's had to travel zillions of miles to participate in anything the Club has done up here, but he does so because he's committed and loves it. And while he obviously enjoys the long drives I just thought it was about time we far-flungers reciprocated. For us ordinary mortals it's a bit too far for a day ride so I plotted a full weekend around the Midlands/North Wales to make it a viable prospect for anyone else who might fancy a few away days on the bike. Steve had insisted on providing me with accommodation when I told him my plan and after I'd posted it up on FB he extended that offer to the first three additional takers Ian Mundy, Tim Burdett and Peter Whitworth. So that was the digs sorted. No more room at the inn.
BUT
After a spell of refusing his very kind offer, anticipating difficulties with sleeping arrangements, I finally and reluctantly accepted. However, it began to get tricky as far as kipping space went when Colin Mitcheson later joined the party. And then it got even trickier when Matthew Holmes piped up a week later, and worse still as the great day was almost upon us when Deryck Brown did the same right at the death. Now I'd have to start looking for a hotel, B&B or something as well as/instead of Stevie's abode. At this point I was starting to regret the whole thing, my stress levels rising quicker than David Edgar off a drop, but Steve assured me that we'd get by. And so we did, with a bit of mattress sharing and a few camp beds. Can't thank you enough for this Steve.
Friday 5th - NITTY GRITTY
Our very late arrival in Sandbach (HUMBLE APOLOGIES TO STEVE'S NEIGHBOURS) dictated a very late ride, if any (mumbled rumblings of disagreement?). With Cannock Chase the nearest option, we stuck our bike lights on and headed south for an hour or so (in the vans). Matt chose to accompany our host in the Red Arrows simulator, the rest of us enjoying the serenity and relative safety of VW utility vehicles. Obviously the place was virtually deserted when we got there, starting our adventure in the pitch black of night at around 9:23pm. Very dark, even without the partial eclipse. Steve has all the Cannock trails embroidered on the back of his hand so wherever he waved it, we went.
Sticking to the regular trail centre routes for our first effort, we managed to squeeze in 11 miles and plenty of laughs along the way. Matt had the weight advantage and used it well, those long, hairy and much-travelled spindles of his propelling him very nicely up the climbs, surrounded by humming, LED-lit heavyweights. After a really enjoyable scrabble around, and an extra lap of Devil's Staircase to capture the lights, someone eventually muttered something about needing some sleep, so we called a truce and headed back to the car park. Potentially the best night ride we've ever done, and for most of us the ONLY one at an official trail centre. Brilliant guiding by our host, and to a man we thoroughly enjoyed it. It was almost 2:00am by the time the bikes were stashed, chargers plugged in, neighbours were woken up and we'd retired to the five plus two corners of Chez Bowden for the night.
Saturday 6th - SEVEN BELLS
That's when the first bedraggled bodies dragged themselves to breakfast, then it was loading time. The plan (well, my original plan at least) was to do Llandegla in the morning and Cannock on the way back. However, Steve had suggested Coed y Brenin, only an extra hour or so further down the Valleys. It would have been a bit naughty to ignore our Host's suggestion, so off we went. We didn't get far though, before the call of Uncle Gregg was heard and breakfast number two was gorged on. What a bl@@dy drive that was. At least in the Caddy we enjoyed a yawning competition, dunno what the others did in Pete's T6, while Matt wore his blackout sleep mask in the Beemer's ejector seat. The day dragged on with the never ending tarmac...
Then.
ARRIVAL
A beautiful afternoon awaited us on arrival at "Co-dee", hot and sticky but with a healthy breeze in the car park. That would disappear as soon as we hit the trees, which we did at 1:10pm after a somewhat lengthy prep session.
Before that though, the lumpy bumpy raggedy rock garden away from the visitor centre gave those of us (me) with feminine wrists a right old going over, it was a real blessing to reach the first fire road for some relief. I immediately launched a tirade of abuse at the trail and the bloke who brought us here (but read on).
That initial shakeup continued most of the way around our 19 or so rickety rackety miles but was interspersed with a few calmer recovery sections. Massive changes since my last visit 15 years ago when it was somewhat more primitive yet I'm sure a bit smoother. However, I hadn't really meant what I'd said after the first few minutes, because the whole episode was just superb. Plenty of opportunity to give it some welly and/or have the odd little getoff, which a couple did but mercifully with no injuries or bike damage. We did get a good old soaking though from the puddles created by rain the previous night. A proper test of body and mind for Matt again but like last night he managed the climbs with aplomb and a smile, surrounded by peetakers the whole way. I must get myself a plomb.
Of course there's always an "event" on our rides, and this time, to no-ones' surprise, the party got split up. "Just stay on this and go in a straight line" was Steve's advice as Ian decided to try being out front for a while. And for a good while he was, in fact a very good while. So much so that half way along "The Beast", Stevie, Colin, Matt and I had to stop and wait for half an hour once we realised what had happened. Finally, after much to-ing and fro-ing with texts, phone calls, Strava beacons and GPS trackers, Tim, Pete and their total failure of an RL then deigned to turn up at our checkpoint and join us to the finish.
Arriving back at the vans a good four hours later we all had a good laugh at Peter's right pedal, smashed to bits on a rock or log somewhere back amongst the rougher stuff. How he managed to stay clipped in I'll never know.
I dismounted the Merida and pressed STOP on my GPS, but just as I was about to press SAVE and end it, I noticed I'd done the grand total of 19.02 miles. Now then, regular readers of Dreary Drivel, the ride diary I keep on Facebook, will be aware that after umpteen years of ensuring my rides were at least 15 milers, 2025 had seen me shift that up a notch to 20 because you're only as old as the woman you feel...and I've more-or-less managed to maintain that figure or indeed exceed it on occasion. So what value does a 19.02 mile excursion in broad daylight on brilliant trails have to a rock hard seasoned campaigner? Yep, sweet fat apples. Therefore, I took off again to claim the extra mile with a loop around the overflow car park as fast as I could (15.6mph up, 20 doon). On returning to the boys, however, the clock hadn't budged, so I'd spent what little energy I had left for no good reason. They all laughed at me! Bummer. However, when I took the readings from the EP8's display, I found peace once more.
Once we'd all got changed Mr Mundy did what he did last year, and a few times previous, by presenting me with a smashing birthday card from him and the squad.
Not only, but also, a super tee shirt nailing the event in memorium. You've got to love him. Or not.
RETURNEES
This morning's Plan A would have resulted in a stopover at "Degla" on the way home but with the imminent arrival of Degsie back at the ranch that became a no-go, so we just rattled back up to Sandbach to meet the awkward oik. While five of us in the vans cruised back north, the death squad flew there, arriving w-a-y before us. We Caddy folk watched with some amusement as Pete veered off the M6 to Lord knows where, ending up ten minutes behind us at HQ. Brilliant satnav in that big black beastie. Not. As an aside I wish to hereby inform Squadron Leader Bowden that the bikes definitely swish around at speed, over bumps or in a side wind and one day will surely loosen the BM's roof rails. Just saying.
There's only one way to wash away a bout of misery and several Greggs delights - Fish 'n Chips! Matthew skipped off with new arrival Deryck to the local chippy, highly recommended by the local resident. He wasn't wrong. After vittles Matt made himself useful sorting the money out.
It was 8:50pm when we sat down to gorge ourselves on the stuff while having the first major de-brief of our tour and sat there farting until...
"Happy Birthday to you, etc., etc.". I was going to say I've never been so embarrassed, jammed as I was in a confined space with the Seven Samurai giving it whoops when Stevie entered with a monster chocolate birthday cake. However, I have been so embarrassed, and by the same crew, and severally. I may have inadvertently blasphemed a little at the presentation which would lead to huge trouble back home with SWMBO for whom any such language is greatly frowned upon. An instant intimacy ban. A single candle looked ominous though, there was an old Indian tribe in the Wild West who used it on the death of their Chiefs. It tasted bl@@dy lush though - the cake, not the candle - so bring on the casket, and celibacy.
Sunday 7th - LAST OF THE SUMMER WHINING
Sadly, there had to be an end to this fine sojourn. Again I was up and about first, slowly joined by a steady trail of Olympic level athletes. We were loaded up and ready to go by around 10:00, heading back to Cannock Chase for our final fling. This time it was to be the off-piste stuff, but hey, no skis. We were ready for the off by 11:30, a very decent morning and warm in the sunny bits. Straight off this could have been a Thursday night jaunt around the bushier parts of Hexhamshire Common. However, that comparison could only be made for the first five minutes. Firstly because it wasn't dark. And secondly because wheeeeeeeee!!!
A few wiggles around smooth, sweepy, fern-covered singletrack had some of us wondering when the fun would start. Then it did. Steve led us into the rooty stuff, with short trail sections shooting off in all directions from the longer, more challenging items with unexpected drop-offs and rocky sections we've come to expect from none-manicured trails. Some features were challenging enough to create a few more tip-offs, but all comical rather than injurious. This place is the aforementioned back yard of our host and Ride Leader and he must have hardly left a stone unturned (I know because a few were thrown up at me). Once again Matt did well on the ups amongst his e-powered chums but finally had to concede to tiredness as the rest of us managed a couple of extra loops while he climbed. Standard practice now when there's a non-eeb in the party.
So that was that. Nope, not quite. The place was plenty wet in the rocky hollows, much the same as Coed y Brenin had been, so we got wet. Then it started raining, then lashing down, and we got VERY, very wet. Fine, we've all got the tee-shirt. The rain jackets went on, came off, went back on again.
MATTHEW'S REVENGE
Unfortunately the bikes also got wet, and that's when trouble hit. We'd stopped under a tree to let the worst of a torrential downpour pass but looking around couldn't see Pete. Then he appeared shaking his head. And walking with his bike. Had he stopped to polish it? No, the Whyte had switched off and showed an orange warning light on its display. He fannied on with it for about 20 minutes but it wouldn't stay on. Resetting it via the phone app did get it going again spasmodically so as the rain eased we got ready to resume.
BUT
Tim's Orbea wouldn't switch on either! However he was well acquainted with his own problem as the idiot designers had put the off/on button above the motor facing skyward, and Tim explained that the button was prone to allowing grit to enter, and once it had it was held down by said grit and wouldn't release. That took a bit of upside-down shaking to fettle but was then good to go.
Was I the only one who saw Matthew sniggering? Look at that face (above)!
It wasn't long after that when Pete decided to give up and retreat back to the vans after quarter of an hour of stop/start/prod/poke/tap-the-app fettling, so Steve pointed him in the right direction (waste of time, that didn't work either!) while the rest of us set about completing the few bits we hadn't done yet. Matthew 1, eebs minus 2. (that's not a chapter in the Bible).
We got back to the car park around 3:00pm when the sun poked through the gloom and the rain stopped just at the right time for loading. The bikes were a right old mess, as were the bodies, so I unfurled my giant tarp and it covered the whole interior of the van nicely to protect it from the filthy sludge, and the dirty bikes. We all got changed and then realised we'd all got changed EXCEPT PETE!!! The phones came out in a feverish attempt to contact him but got no response, then a few minutes later in he trolls from the opposite direction having gone to the visitor centre to wash his bike and let a bit more liquid into the gubbins, duh. And he HAD gone the wrong way.
EPILOGUE
Once loaded we headed off to the nearest McDonalds for the last supper (what's all this biblical crap TK?) before we parted company with our brilliant host and guide after a fabulous weekend. The way it turned out I'm glad I didn't go with my gut and change the plot, the whole thing was pure magic, trails were excellent and the riding plenty exciting enough for li'l ol' me. It also served as a reminder that it's probably time to refit the mudguards.
Thank you Steve, and thank you everyone else. Memories are made of this. Look forward to seeing a few more bodies out next time!
