The Brian Rourke, Cat and Fiddle, Cystic Fibrosis ride

By Andy Brooke

Michael, Zak and myself managed to arrive outside Brian Rourke’s shop fully kitted up for what the weather forecasters had informed us would be showers and was turning out to be light cloud with hazy sunshine. Whilst nobody could accuse it of being warm it definitely wasn’t wet.

Being a bit sceptical about the forecasts I had decided to pack clothing that could cover every eventuality from a tropical heat wave too arctic blizzards and then make the choice when I arrived. A splendid idea you may have thought, but all it did was give me too much choice and I was in danger of picking too little clothing and freezing if the weather changed for the worst or boiling if it changed for the better. In the end I compromised and finished off with the fetching ensemble of Assos shorts, two 45 road club road tops, arm warmers, tights and to hedge my bets the 45 road club gilet.  

The Gilet is a wonderful piece of kit that can be warn at almost any time of year, early morning starts in the summer just to take the edge off or when warming up for those early season time trials or in the middle of winter as another layer and it can be folded up tightly and easily packed away in a jersey pocket, we also have some in stock now.

Enough of the adverts, now where was I, oh yes there we were resplendent in our 45 Road Club colours and hanging around outside the shop a few minutes after the official start time.

A motorcycle marshal who just happened to have been a member of the club a number of years ago then approached Michael for a quick chat; it’s a small world.

We waited for a reasonable sized group to form and a promising line-up of decent club riders stood around seemingly waiting for the same thing. Then a few of them decided to go and all the others followed hotly pursued by three 45 Road Club riders.

The first couple of miles went along nicely, slowly moving past riders who were slipping back as the group rode along at a steady tempo and I was just thinking to myself that this seemed a civilised way to get through the 20 miles to the bottom of the climb, when all of a sudden the group stopped. Apparently some of them wanted to wait for one of their number who had dropped back, this was a shame because I didn’t fancy the alternatives like last years road race or sitting on the front all the way round.

A few riders continued on and we latched onto the back, but these few were riding at a faster and slightly more erratic pace, surging forward randomly and then easing up. We continued in this way catching riders, shelling out some, but gathering more, all the way to the bottom of the Cat and Fiddle where, I later found out, we had passed Ian Donald who was also on the ride with a friend (apologies Ian for not saying hello, I was too busy following wheels).

By the turn at the very bottom of the climb we had formed a large sized group of about 30 riders that immediately shattered into ones and twos either hauling themselves up the steep bits, lungs gasping for air and heart rates red lining (myself included in their number) or floating past with smooth road race nurtured pedalling styles whilst chatting between themselves. Zak and Michael comfortably rode off into the distance in a manner that was set for the rest of the ride, Zak in front Michael slightly slower and me grinding my way up losing distance at an alarming rate.

The Cat and Fiddle is an odd climb that does sort out both your fitness and your power to weight. If you are fit (backed by racing 25s or hard club runs) the length of the climb is not a problem, in fact you will find yourself overtaking riders on the higher sections that may have previously over taken you on the hard lower sections, this is usually because they are not used to the length of time riding hard. The power to weight bit is the important bit though, obviously that’s what determines how fast you can climb it and this is where Michael and Zak scored hands down.

They waited for me at the café near the top and then we continued on to Axe Edge for the next bit of leg seizing effort, I attempted to gain a bit of distance on the down hill bit but only succeeded in postponing the inevitable for a couple of hundred metres before they both sailed past, unperturbed by my small victory.

This is a climb that is quite a bit steeper, but not as long as the Cat, and demands a bit of respect, plus the top is hidden around a corner which makes it doubly painful (just when you thought it might all finish it carries on hurting).  One of the benefits to climbing all this way are the magnificent views, rolling hills off into the distance with sunny patches lighting up bits of the hills and rocky cliff faces to dramatic effect, this time without the hindrance of the low cloud present during last years ride.

As with the Cat and Fiddle, Zak and Michael stormed off up the climb and I plugged away hoping to catch them on the down hill bits. On one of the downhill sections I could see Michael stopped up ahead with a rider next to him on the floor, it turned out that this other rider had hit the kerb on this fast down hill and had come off in front of Michael, dodgy stuff. Luckily he didn’t seem too badly injured and he had a friend to help him so we carried on.

A fast moving train of good riders came past on the next drag and I managed to hang on to the wheels which was quite fortunate as it was the only way I could get back to Zak after our short stop.

This train didn’t last long and just after the exhilarating 50mph down hill bit on the road towards Leek it all slowed up again and we continued on as a threesome with the occasional rider latching on as we passed through Leek and back towards Stoke on Trent.

This is always the worst bit for me because there are about three climbs left all of which are longer and steeper than anything round here. I would just manage to get back in contact with Michael and Zak before the climbs and then off they would fly up the hill, then the chase to catch back on the flat and boom out the back again up the next slope. When I got to the last climb my legs had just about had enough, they would only allow one pace and that was very slow. So I crept up to the top at 6 mph with a queue of other cyclists and cars behind me, having said that none of the cyclist overtook me to get further on so they must have been in a similar state.

The last bit is quite strange because you seem to make a few sharp turns around some back streets and then pop out 50 metres from the front of the shop, a very pleasing sight.

There I was 55 miles and 3 hours and 15 minutes after signing on, back again, in the sports hall adjacent to the shop and partaking of the sandwiches, cakes, tea and coffee all laid on for the hundreds of cyclists taking part in the event who were quickly filling up the hall.

Well organised and efficiently run with marshals and signs at all the major turns and helpers in abundance in the hall and out on the course with drink stations on the Cat and Fiddle and a good clubby atmosphere. This makes the event a must do for all club cyclists who want a bit of a challenging ride at the end of the season without the extreme distance of some of the cyclosportives. Make a note in your diary for next year.

Same as last year, no sign of Sean Kelly, he must have been out there somewhere but we couldn’t find him.