Sunday

 It was 1pm when I got out on Sunday.  My lunch was already packed so I sat at the top of the hill and stared out into the gloom while I ate some fruit, a packet of crisps and drank the coffee I'd just hauled up through the rock garden.  I didn't think through the fog when I promised myself I'd sit at the top of the hill and look at the view.  Still, I had a chat with a few passing dog walkers before following them down the hill and riding back up past the apple store, checking out some more bivi spots for later in the month and then riding up to Stanage Pole.  There were far fewer hordes today.  

Up the track, the air cleared for a moment, it was like being hit with a hair drier.  The air, no longer wet, was a good 5 degrees warmer.  

The Cotic cruised happily over the drain speed bumps and we did our first bunnyhops on easy terrain over the puddles.  I decided on my usual route over to the reservoirs, running up hill and down Padley to join the busy parking bays - even though the icecream van is long gone.  Still, it was a foggy Remembrance Sunday late afternoon and the majority of people were leaving.

I was finally hungry again and this time promised myself I'd climb up the hill away from the traffic at least, before stopping for my sandwich.  I aimed for the offroad climb that I discovered when I last rode here to see if I could beat my PB up it.  About half way up I remembered I was supposed to be hungry and nearly fell off but I kept going until my back wheel span out 5 metres from the top and I had to push but I still got a PB.

I recovered by carrying on across summer pastures to the Lockerbrook outdoor centre where all was quiet.  I had the lane to myself and the descent to myself.  Good job because I leathered it and I leathered my muscles.

Standing on the pedals steering across sloping slippery rocks which had a light coating of grit and pine needles. My knees and thighs screamed at me to stop but I was having too much fun. It was too late for anyone else but there was just enough light left to see what I was doing. I knew I'd got a PB - at least I'd better. I got to the bottom out of puff and growling at my sore muscles like I'd just climbed Pen y Ghent.

I burst through the gate others had failed to close. I had no energy to park my bike so I just laid it on the floor and staggered over to close the gate behind me, still gasping. A family cycled by and looked at me like I was the monster from the black lagoon, groaning and lollocking around.

When I got to the last climb out of the valley the light went on.  I love leaving the valley this way.  Probably because I always have the hill to myself when I'm on my way out, or if I do have company everyone is happy because it's such a beautiful place.  There was just enough light to make out the water below, navy blue in the fading glow of a sun long gone and the outline of the black hillside.  The occasional late-leaving car below and the blackbirds flitting in the woods were my only company.

I didn't mind having a few hikes, it wasn't about rushing it or crushing it any more, it was about getting home. I nearly nailed the climb in the dark though - in fact I pushed it a few times and once crashed into a boulder - saving myself a crushed leg but scratching my new frame (it'll get used to it) and then dropped everything, including myself into a bog dropping off an edge.  I am always drawn to the bog and have been known to walk around it but this time, from my vantage point lying in the heather I noticed the easy line - it was right there, in plain sight.  A classic case of following my fears.

Soon after I went sideways on a rock, failed to unclip and again found myself lying in the heather.  I realised I was pretty tired and slowed down some more and even hiked out to the A57 after I decided I wasn't quite up for riding the slabs right now.

The traffic was manic enough to help me decide to ride home via Rod side, splodging through the farm puddles, opening the gates held shut with lengths of climbing tatt and conversing with the rams brought home to pasture for the winter.

By the time I got to the lanes I was broken, hungry and ready to collapse in front of Strictly Come Dancing on the TV but I wasn't done with hills yet.  Rather than face the steep rolling traverse to home, I climbed the steady up to Crookes and took one last sweeping drop into home.

Today wasn't quite such an awakening revelation as Saturday's ride but it didn't 'alf do me in ready for a good nights sleep.  I didn't really remember lots of it, nothing particularly struck me but in retrospect it was a nice day out.

And that's what it's all about.