This ride was billed as a sweet ride with a hard bit in the middle – something like my favourite Quality Street - you know the one I mean, it is in in the purple wrapper. A sizeable group of ten gathered at High Crompton park to sample the delights of Rochdale's urban core and its wilderness outskirt and, ignoring the forecast thunderstorms, it set off in eager anticipation of an afternoon's fun and frolics. Back lanes brought us to the canal at Slattocks which we followed for a few miles to Deeplish and the sights, sounds and scents of Rochdale's multi-culturalism. We stopped for a while to marvel at the architectural magnificence of the Town Hall, a neo-gothic masterpiece some say even out-gothicking neighbouring Manchester's municipal HQ.

And then it was up Rooley Moor Road. A tough nut to crack on tarmac, cobbles, loose rock and causey stones. It starts steeply on the tarmac and gets steeper as the rough stuff begins before having a slightly more benign ending somewhere yonder where land meets sky more than three miles distant. The track is an old wool road that led to Whalley Abbey, where for centuries the monks managed Lancashire's woollen trade. Nowadays it forms part of the Pennine Bridleway (the Mary Towneley Loop section) on the stretch between Watergrove and Waterfoot. The actual summit is slightly off-piste at Top o'Leach on Hailstorm Hill where it is crowned by a trig pillar 474 metres above sea level. We stopped here to soak up the 360-degree panorama and to stoke up on the calories burned on the climb. It had been a hot and sultry climb in air charged with the expectancy of storms but we were winning our race against them – but will our luck hold? 

We re-traced the descent with front wheels and rear twitching over the loose rocks pinging them to left and right. Eventually the surface calmed down and we headed east into Healey Dell to follow Sustrans route 92 back to Rochdale. Continuing on route 92 we reached the canal for a short towpath ride to Kingsway business park. Only two and a bit miles to go now. Any ride that starts with “High” in its name promises a predictable finish and the final ascent (of Broad Lane) did not disappoint. It was approaching six-o-clock as we reached High Crompton to end our afternoon's jaunt at the North Star pub. Most of us stopped for a bit of supper and, afterwards, an easy, rush hour-free, journey home.

We had ridden twenty-four miles but with only two climbs worthy of the name – the little one on tired legs towards the end and that big one in the middle, Rooley Moor Road. Truly scrumptious.

Mick Ely

PS Our luck held. The storms arrived later that evening.