HT Ride 2

I went to bed late last night because I was working through my planning for the HT.  Still, I woke at 7am this morning, eager to go out for a ride.  I fed the cats and ate my own breakfast but made the mistake of sitting down with the computer, the HT route and resting a hamstring that's been giving me pain and stress.  Before I know it I was hungry and it was 11:30.  We walked for lunch on my suggestion and I though my hamstring was going OK so I decided to go for a ride.

If nothing else, I'd test my bike out and keep moving.  By the time I was ready to go I was enthursed for a long ride.  It started raining but I smiled up and set off into the valley.

The first few ups and down were fine.  I rode with confidence.  Then I started to feel my back wwheel skitting about - shortly before the whole bike went sideways across the road.  I headed for the right hand side away from the most oary cold wind and set my square section tyres flat on the road.  I managed to ride square to th ground for 30m to the top of the hill then, rather than the tempting longer route I decided the most sensible thing to do with this day was my own thing - keep it short, enjoyable but mostly safe.

I turned off onto the trail to take the same route I rode last week.  It became obvious where the ice came from, despite it raining not snowing.  A vicious Northerly / Westerly.

On the descent from the Farm a woodpecker rewarded my intention to continue on.

Within 2 minutes of setting off up Wyming Brook I had to stop and put the air back in my tyres.  Suddenly in the shade of the trees I got some momentum back and every rock I bounced off punched at my rear wheel  and threatened a pinch puncture.

I finally realised why my pump is leaking – it’s amazing what a bit of jeopardy will do for the logical reasoning.

A few moments of believing I was the only person to be out there on my own, I came across a couple and few dog walkers, mostly oblivious to my existence until I was past them.

Despite my tyre-stop waving goodbye to any hillclimb records, I pushed on over the rocks and leaves to the carpark, distinctly quieter than last time I was out.  I climbed the wet bike over the styal.

Back on the road over Lodge Moor, a bloke coming out of the pub asked, “How have you not crashed your bike?” I assured him I had tried.  I braked between the rivulets of water and the half-frozen slush and got off and into the field to join the bridleway along the top of the Rivelin Ridge.  It was enjoyable, except for the occasional slide. 

The worst part is the descent down to the road – around half way up the valley side.  I’m not sure I’m going to be able to ride it today but I’m damned if I’m going to walk it.  The bike humms royally, the brakes full on and the back wheel skids away as the front wheel thankfully holds us upright. 

At the end of the trail, the rain falling and running off the road had been scoured into an ice slick.  Now I was all for walking.  I hoped the council had been out and gritted the road that I had to descend around 100m to the next bridlepath.  So long as I was on rocks and leaves, I was happy.

There were no cars thankfully and I sketchily made my way across the road.  I walked over the steps then rocketed down the leaf-filled rock gully that I accidentally descended too fast last week. 

Better this week – not surprisingly – I was more gingerly.  The final drop offs were still worked.  There’s only so much I can do with skinny tyres.  I pushed onto the up-path that avoids the final climb of the A57 into Sheffield and pitied the freezing ponies

I saw my final climb and my final dog walker ahead.  By now I’d been riding for around and hour and 45 minutes.  “Mind the ice out there”.  I couldn’t find anything else to say except, “I KNOW!”.  It wasn't the ice on the hill I was worried about, more the road beyond.  Thankfully it was still raining hard, not snowing.  The worry was the salt would be washed off the road as I realised it had stealthily started lashing it down.  On the main road I went to turn my light on but really struggled.  The light was frozen so solid into a block of ice that I couldn't get the soft button to press under the hard caisson of ice around it.  The light flickered into life, the Garmin screen in a similar state.  I held my breath and hoped that the freezing rain wouldn't bring me down before I got home.  

The ride back was a mixture of local main roads until I realised there was no grit left, back roads - still covered in snow, and parkland.  I couldn't resist taking the park.  It drops me out by my house and is a nice traverse, even if I do have to walk it on the skinny tyres.

It took 10 desperate minutes at home to rewarm the hands.  As a training ride it was character-building. I don't think it was particularly muscle-building though.  Some more HT training may happen on the turbo going forward.