Frodsham And The Delamere Forest.Briefly

Blog Date - 10 April 2012

I normally write me travels up in the Travel section…but this was hardly a great adventure.  That said, it was something of a pleasant surprise.  On a very wet and grimly grey looking day we were looking for somewhere to go, somewhere not too far away and somewhere we’ve not been before.  Going somewhere I’ve not been before in the North West is getting harder as I get older.

The Delamere Forest is south of the small but rather posh Cheshire town of Frodsham.  With no more of a plan than to “have a look” and the postcode of a pub we’d found online we set off.  We set off into the rain.  It wasn’t heavy rain, but persistent, that kind of rain that lasts all day.  I was prepared though, I had 2 pairs of waterproof pants on and 3 pairs of gloves with me.  Gloves never stay dry.

A short hop across the Manchester Ship Canal and through Runcorn and we were in Frodsham.  It’s definitely a town, with a small Morrisons, Tesco and all the usual shops you’d expect in any small town, but they’re all a bit smaller and a bit smarter than most towns.  There’s definitely money here, you can see it in the houses, the cars and the clothes people wear.  Up around the back of the town the houses go from smart terraces to large detached properties with a handful of mansions with tennis courts.

It’s all very nice and of course I’m a little envious, not of the tennis courts or the colonnade fronted vast houses, but of the large 2, 3 and 4 bay garages.  You can keep your fancy properties, I just want a big garage and a long driveway.  As we ride slowly past I try to imagine living there.  I’ve been in enough large houses to know I don’t think it would suit me, rattling around in vast empty spaces and needing a TV so big that it covers a whole wall, it just ain’t my thing.  I’d spend the money on having fun not hiring a team of cleaners to keep on top of it all. 

We leave the town and move gently into rolling countryside.  It’s early spring and while the trees are only starting to sprout leaves the grass is lush and green.  It’s not dramatic like Wales or the North of Scotland, the hills roll and the road undulates across them.  It’s very green today, the farms are smart and purposeful, the cows look preened and clean in the rain and the occasional clumps of houses are well presented. 

We get a little lost but happily so.  By mere chance we enter into the Forest.  As it’s still early spring the trees are not in full leaf and the rain makes the tracks into and through the forest quite muddy.  There’s quite a few cars parked by the roadside but little sign of people other than the odd walker and glimpses of mountain bikers passing through the woods.  The Delamere Forest is popular and well catered for mountain bikers.  I imagine it would suit families on bikes as the landscape offers hills and valleys but they are very gentle, not too strenuous.

I stop under a railway bridge and use the maps and GPS on my fancy phone to ascertain where we are.  It seems a turn here and there will put us back on the road to the pub we’d selected so we proceed down quiet roads.  I ride at 25mph to take in the scenes and enjoy the day.  Still the rain comes down yet I’m warm, dry and comfortable underneath. 

Back on the main road I need to pick up speed to avoid slowing the other traffic down.  After another quick map check we arrive at the selected pub, the Traveller’s Rest on the outskirts of Frodsham.  I park the bike up, take a few snaps then we enter, a little worried such a smart place may not welcome 2 sodden bikers dripping on their smart country-set floors.

I need not have worried.  We’re greeted with a smile and happy “Hello” by a slightly portly chap at the bar.  We’re pleased to hear that tea and coffee are available as well as the usual bar drinks and we order a Cappuccino and tea.  We sit there, our jackets hanging off the back of our chairs and dripping onto the stone floor.  We talk about the landscape, the pub and the area while various families and couples come and go, most of them are diners.  There’s no pressure to leave and we spend an hour just talking then as we leave the portly fellow thanks us and waves goodbye.  What a great pub.

It looks grim in the rain, but it really is quite a pleasant part of the North West

Back out on the road the rain still comes down, heavier at times.  Rather than heading back through Runcorn I ride back through Warrington.  It’s an industrial town complete with factories, chimneys, massive warehouses and confusing roundabouts.  It’s such a marked contrast from the countryside a mere half hour away.  I wish I could have it all, the dreamy quiet and lushness of the rural life, with the hustle and excitement of the big towns.  I don’t believe either is better, just different.  I enjoy seeing the contrast between the two though.

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