I planned to do a really long day out on the bike 26th December, given the forecast was mild with the rest of the week set to be freezing.
A loss of a number of items around the house delayed my departure at least 90 minutes but I was on the road by 10:30 with 135km out to Monsal and back programmed into my Garmin.
I actually wondered at how I'd made it so long. On following the route from home in reverse I realised I'd plotted the finale, the return trip, through the heart of the Hope and Edale valleys. The title of the route was "Monsal long easy". Not sure where the "easy" bit came in as I looked in dismay at the course.
• • •
As I rode out on the only easy trail, up the banks of Derwent Reservoir I was, at least pleased that my brain now thinks 135 km in a day is do-able. Though I was pretty sure the body was going to disappoint.
I stopped at Fairholmes for lunch. If I was going to stop out all day long, my packed lunch would need to become an early dinner. I bagged a table with my bike, used the toilets then walked straight upto the kiosk to order a pastie, tea and cake. My bird-watching table delivered as bullfinches, chaffinches, robins and ducks vied for birdseed and pastry crumbs. The easy bit was over - time for some hard bits.
Up the fire road to Lockerbrook and down the burms to climb over the whale back of Win Hill. I must have been looking rough. Walkers now started asking me how I'm doing instead of just saying Hi (if anything). Truth is, since I'm pushing, I'm pretty knackered but I made it further up "try not to walk this" than I did on Sunday last week.
Up on the tops, everything was better. It's still only 2pm and I descended Jaggers Clough, messed around a bit then rode up the other side.
Down in the Edale valley it's so quiet I started to worry I've stumbled into one of the few remaining Tier 2 areas.
I foolishly climbed up Mam Tor on a trail that's almost 100% a push up. Great descent but a dreadful choice of up. Still the quarried spills and landslides gave perfect shelter for the 1st course of my evening meal. I couldn't dally too long though as the cold was seeping into the fleece layer I added. That stays on for the rest of the climb. Families up here were hiking back and forth along the edge - some trying to decide whether to make an early descent from the wind. Have the kids really had enough or are they just whining?
• • •
The wind put me off riding the ridge, the volume of people even more so. I decided to give up on my big day out here. The late start meant I wouldn't be home for dinner. The gale makes it even less likely I'd finish my route today. So I dropped into the Hope valley. I caught up a runner, stopped staring back over my shoulder. The Golden sun was setting behind Mam Tor. On some rides there's a moment where you know you've seen everything you were meant to see that day.
• • •
Down in Castleton it was just like any other Boxing Day (maybe a little quieter). The well healed looking to score a boxing-day sales Blue John jewelery bargain or a tin of shortbread. I thought I'd ride up the Peveril Castle road, over to Calver and take a different line home to ususal but at the last minute decided at least if I was going to make my ride short, I'd make it count. So I turned up Cave Dale instead. More less-than-well-prepared people picked their way over limestone boulders in their Marks and Spencer fashion boots asking "you're not cycling up there are you?" Erm no, I'm walking.
That was the truth. As the incline eased enough for me to consider riding, the wind found its way into the dale until eventually I was pushing in the cold wind across flat-open moorland with all my might. The sanctuary of a three-sided sheep pen gave me enough cover to stop for more food, a wee and a much needed change into my big coat. In the time I'd been in Cave Dale the sun had officially set.
From here there was little chance of me reaching Calver and an alternative route home so I resigned myself to the cement works path,Thornhill and a long slog up New Road and Stanage (again-sigh).
The legs complained a lot about every incline on the cement works path and my left knee cramped so hard I had to get off and walk the last bit. At the end though, I was rewarded by a gale force tail wind up the valley to Thornhill and some incredible Christmas lights in Bradwell. A huge star or the word "love" shone out from the hillside outside the village but I was too tired and unsteady to stop and photograph them well.
On the Thornhill bike path the clock hit 6:30pm and the stomach started to rumble again so I stopped to eat the last half of my early dinner - Sweedish flatbread with sunflower seeds, Emmental, prosciutto ham and honey, before tackling the climb home.
It wasn't enough though and I cycled New Road with one glove in the other hand whilst my bare hand shovelled whatever sweeties it could find from my nosebag into my mouth. Skittles were stashed in my hamster cheeks to warm up to edible temperature whilst M&Ms were consumed immediately.
When I reached the end of the tree cover the glove had to go back on but at least by then, the wind was cross-to-tail, giving me unpredictable boosts. As the road turned, the wind both helped and hindered but for the main it was finally helping and occasionally I had to brake hard when the dry stone walls started to approach a little too quickly. New Road is a just-bearable hindrance that has to be tolerated for the joy of riding the Stanage Causeway but at night it can be deserted and tolerable. Wind assisted and with Christmas lights twinkling in the valley below, it was actually enjoyable. Even the boy racers were safely tucked up with beers and boxing day TV.
The causeway though was just silly. Fun at first with that tail wind, I enjoyed the luxury of being blown through puddles. Then when the direction turned, the wind came from the side. The wind from the valley floor combined with the horizontal gusts to slam me leftwards towards the rocks above me before the pressure wave rebounded and slammed me back towards the cliff face below me. I endured it as long as I could then got off and walked perfectly rideable terrain. So much for a wind-assisted PB.
• • •
I spent my time considering the fluid dynamics trying to identify still areas of airflow in plain exposure where I could shelter if forced to do so.
At the highest point of the crag I had to crouch low behind my bike to avoid being blown over. I gripped the bars hard as the rear wheel bounced off the ground in the up-draft. I almost ran to the bend in the track where it finally turns away from the edge, where the buffeting would stop and I could get back on again. Sure enough, I rode the flagstones with ease as the tailwind pushed me across and the pole passed in a fleeting glance.
From bailing out on Cavedale to walking into my kitchen was 2 hours. It didn't feel like a bad bail though. Getting home for dinner was nice. Going to bed happy was real nice. I can't guarantee I'll get up and do it all again today but chances of me going outside for a couple of hours are pretty high:
My attitude to longer distances has changed. I used to think 60k in a day was a long way. Now I think it doable and wonder what I've done with the rest of the day.
I used to count the metres elevation Now they're just an essential part of a nice ride.
I still look at the HT as a potentially impossible feat at this time of the year, when 65km knocks everything I have out of me. When the sun has been gone since 3:40pm it's really difficult to contemplate going out again after dinner - especially during these Covid times when that dinner has been carried on your back for 40km and eaten under a hedge in the darkness.
The extra knowledge I have though is that it will come. Like, so long as I start now. Note to self: stop fucking slacking off! I'm trying to stay positive after I wrote off the last 3/4 of October, November and most of December.
Two years ago I was riding in the Surrey hills at Christmas before my actual HT attempt. Mostly it was easier going. The rides were longer but the elevation and effort paltry by comparison.
• • •
Last year over Christmas, all I managed were a couple of long road rides to Manchester and back to be specific. This year I feel like I could do those loaded on the mtb if I tried. I could visit my folks for a cuppa and enjoy a camp out on my way home if I really felt like it - if this wind would fade off. I might still do it given the right conditions.
So despite a bit of slacking, the effort is increasing. Yes I'm trying to convince me more than you. Bear with me, it's working.
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