I should have done more on Solstice day but I've done very little for Christmas this year so Saturday was spent sorting presents and Sunday morning was spent fixing my bike up or loading it with stuff.
I rolled out at 2pm, dropped down to the river and chinked up Fairy Glen to the South side of the valley.
The road of 100 puddles is the gateway lane. It gets me out into the fields. Sometimes it becomes the fields. I had to negotiate with a horse to let me pass. He was feeling skittish. Eventually his rider turned him around, passed me, then turned again and followed me along the lane.
The good dog was indoors but woofed to me from the house. I turned up the hill to the top road and as I climbed, horse and rider caught me up. He was much happier to keep an eye on me in front and his rider was pleased as he had got brave enough to pass the second gate. When the track flattened out I left them to celebrate together.
On the top road,the sunset begged to be photographed. My bike begged to have its picture taken, despite me treading through a bog to do so.
There's a fair bit of road riding to get out this side of the valley, though there are few cars. It's my express-way to the Peak. I was glad I'd made it out here early enough to see the ocre moorland, the clouds turn pink to orange and the sky turn blue to turquoise, yellow and then Navy.
I stopped at the gate for a chat with another rider who had come out for the solstice and ended up taking pity on his Loneliness, inviting him to our street's outdoor Christmas Carol evening because he can't get out to see his family in London this Christmas.
I squelched through more puddles then joined the A57 for the final express descent to the Lady bower reservoir. It wasn't the hike a bike that put me off taking the Derwent Edge route but the depth of the puddles a resulting erosion on the downhill. I decided to steer clear and ride the shore track instead.
The reservoir level was full - literally to overflowing. This bench has consistently been around 30-40ft above the water line for the whole summer. Now it felt like the water was lapping at my feet. I'm glad I made this stop before the sun completely disappeared. I watched the boy racers blatting along the tourist road, content in the knowledge they couldn't get anywhere near me here.
By the time I reached the village the light had gone. I couldn't face the visitor centre toilets and boy racer carpark so I carried on up to Howden, avoiding the occasional ill-equipped dog walkers making their way back in darkness.
In fact, they just kept coming By the time I finally found a spot to have a wee, I was pretty sure I had exhausted the walking crowds, yet still found myself keeping an eye on my darkened bike as I readjusted my layers whilst a couple walked past nonchalantly chatting - hopefully none the wiser at my presence.
A fine Westerly breeze had picked up so I added thick gloves and a fleece and shivered as my feet gradually lost their feeling along the more exposed trails and the easy-going Tarmac road after a deserted Slippery Stones. Now the night-hikers were better equipped and a fine array of blindingly bright head-torches dazzled me so much I had to brake on the downhills Just rude!
• • •
I found another sheltered spot to take on enough calories to get me through to dinner time. One of my favourite reservoir outlooks only slightly ruined by the head torch light pollution of a fleet of Weekend Warriors. By sitting down for a bit my feet actually warmed up and stayed warm for the rest of the ride.
I allowed myself a ride up the fire road to escape the valley after I realised I should have last time. It was satisfying. I got so warm in my extra layers I had to take my helmet off to let my hood down and rode to the top with it dangling from my handlebars. It was a Tonino-Nice moment in the middle of the dark winter and made me smile for the rest of the day.
• • •
The surface on the burms had been chewed up well by the rain and in other places been washed away to reveal the old cobbles. Needless to say, with all the kit on my bike I did not ride up "try not to walk this bit". I was glad to descend back to the reservoir trail where the only real challenge was trying to read surface detail by dynamo light and not end up sideways or knee-deep in mud.
The mud turned to running water, cue one reservoir sinkhole by night light. I checked my messages to find Landslide just leaving for our rendezvous. I had 90 minutes to kill and was sick of riding up New Road,so I plotted an alternate road hike up Padley Gorge and North Lees
• • •
The bike path to Thornhill was possibly the muddiest I got all ride. In the fading dynamo light, pushing up the gorge I scared myself stupid wheeling the bike over a wobbly paving slab which made me think there was a ghost rider right behind me.
An owl screeching in the neighbouring field nearly finished me off.
The time had hit 7:30pm and I had to snack my way across the bottom of Stanage edge and up the road toward Burbage to keep the legs turning.
I looked down the Burb valley and could see another rider making their way up. The timing was looking good.
Up at the carpark, a person was standing by a vehicle so I decided to give the footpath a miss for now and head over to the bridleway to check my phone in the shelter of the rock wall.
• • •
I thought I could already see a light in our chosen spot for the night but just as I'd sent a text, he arrived at my spot and we carried on back to the bivi spot together.
We carved out an excellent nook in a tree clearing, both of us revelling in the security of our tented cocoons. I was starving and washed down my dinner of dessicated curry with warmed rehydration drink.
I took a few sips of whisky but had already drunk enough in the week and mentally needed to get a nice ride in on Monday morning too.
It took me a while to get settled. Despite it being 4 degrees warmer than our Novembivi it was wetter and I still ended up putting on all my layers, including waterproofs, and breaking out the foot warmers.
• • •
I was particularly annoyed I forgot my down boots. I must've slept at about midnight then woke at 5:40. I snoozed a bit then heard L get up.
I brewed up from my sleeping bag, still dining out on Porridge with Ben Nevis honey and a really delicious coffee.
A little more world-righting over breakfast then we packed up to head home.
When I finally got up the trees were misty with falling rain and kind of pretty and mysterious.
 |
| The Creature from the Black Lagoon bringing me Christmas gifts |
The track out was challenging and required a degree of teamwork to negotiate the stream crossing and boulder hopping. I ignored an increasingly wobbly saddle as I shoved and vaulted the bike around wearily, then we skipped our way down the final pitch to the Fox house Inn and L continued into Sheffield, late for his "some time after 10" shift, whilst I strolled off to do Houndkirk with my morning off work.
• • •
I soon ground to a halt after my saggy saddle got so bad, my saddle bag started to touch the rear tyre. I repacked the bag then took an Alan key to the seat post, relieved to have the saddle back in the right position. I rode towards home feeling 4 inches taller.
At the top of the Mayfield valley I needed a final stop to feed before the push for home and had a chat with a runner, out for her dog walk. These little links helping to ease the Lockdown drudgery.
Although I was using up a part of my remaining leave I did have a rather important 2:30 meeting so I beat a hasty line home through the outskirts of town, the 11am traffic was at least easy enough to make road riding bearable.
• • •
I dropped into home at 12 o'clock for a shower, lunch and a perfect 1 hour sleep before work in the afternoon.
That's it 12/12 for 2020. 2 under emergency rules. (novel but never again, hopefully) 2 years in a row.
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