“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add colour to my sunset sky.”
―
Stray Birds
My adventures in bike packing for the 2021-2022 season were finally ready to begin. On Saturday I set myself the task of sorting out all my electronics for the weekend and it took me all day to find elements of my set up that had long since fallen into disarray.
On Sunday the struggle continued and I finally left the house at 1pm. A bit earlier than last week... baby steps and all.
By the time I realised I'd left my camp pillow at home I was at the woods already and didn't intend to retrace my steps. I'd just have to hope it was going to be warm enough tonight to not need my insulated coat as well as my sleeping bag.
The weather gave me no excuses this week. After messing about in my own valley on the rough-stuff (I was only imagining a short ride), I was pleasantly surprised to find myself at Redmires reservoir in time for the sun starting to dip and the water beautifully still.
Mist floated in the valley and a grouse croaked in the tussocks. I looked on over my future home (which obviously I will turn into a massive refuge for everyone to use).
I whooshed down Stanage as the sky turned ochre and bounced off the crags and the bracken. An army of photographers in camo gear were stalking something in the woods but it didn't sound like they'd had much success. I was finding gold by the trailside.
My bladder was doing it's usual response to the coffee I'd drunk 3 hours ago so I decided to ride up the hill towards the public loo instead of carrying on down to my first stop at the reservoirs (completely forgetting about the toilets at Heatherdene). Still, the mistake was disguised as achievement as I cycled past this gorgeous holly-bush flushing in the setting sun.
Since I was halfway to Burbage edge, I thought I'd give that a go in the sunset too. Halfway along I pulled up a boulder and positioned myself to consume biscuits and chocolate with the last of the sun's effort whilst boulderers and runners headed back to their vehicles. I felt smug knowing my day was not over.
Some boulderers stayed around for the moon-rise, hot on the heels of the receding sunshine.
I realised the need to get moving so continued to Longshaw past the closing cafe and onto the estate grounds where it would have be rude to neglect the final blush over Shatton moor with the reflection in the lake before tackling Frogatt and Curbar in the dark.
I managed not to fall off in front of giggling teenagers on Curbar - which is an achievement only guaranteed by the lack of giggling teenagers on a chilly November evening. I enjoyed the sparkling lights spattered below. The luring sight of fairy lights in a gigantic world.
I marvelled what the hell the light pollution was coming out of Calver village then realised it was the beastly Chatsworth estate and was suitably incensed. I'm sure Mr Darcy would have agreed.
There was nothing left to do but descend to Chatsworth to take a closer look. I think the lazer light beam might have been turned off by the time I got there. I certainly didn't notice it. You can pay £14 to go and look at it if you like but I took it in from the other side of the hill, after slogging my way across the grounds on the sketchy bridlepath. The fog on my light caused a light display similar to that of travelling at warp speed through the milky way in the Starship Enterprise. Apologies for the blur - the erm... stone wall kept wobbling. Still, the pic is kind of worth it. No soft focus, that's the fog.
Through the wood then... what to do next?
I made a few navigational errors trying to recall the Peak 200 route - one of which ended in me fully going through a gate - bike and all - before realising there really was no path and re-tracing. Still, now I found that bit of the route I had misplaced previously under a fug of fatigue.
I didn't want to end up in the Haddon estate at this time of night as I wasn't sure if I could get through and also was going to get me out of the way of where I wanted to be (which was able-to-get-home-in the-morning). So I intruded upon Mr Darcy a little more and headed for the start of the Monsal trail. That end of Chatsworth is very much about dodging the cow poo, then avoiding the "private" signs until finally there's a big push up a steep hill to the Monsal trail. Just as I reached the top, a deep guttural growl emitted from the treeline next to me.
It was the worst moment, topping out on the push, out of breath, not yet on my bike and ready to sprint. I'm not nearly flexible enough yet to jump on over my saddle bag and survive without ending up a quivering wreck on the ground so I took to shouting "woah there", making my voice sound as big and scary (whilst quite terrified and incomprehensible) as possible. I didn't hang around to find out if it was fox or dog but it did not pursue so things seemed safe. I was also hungry so after finding a cutting which had trapped warm air and kept the fog out so I decided to stop and brew up and hope that the beast of Pemberley did not smell my dinner and come to investigate.
The fuel was to be another experiment. I bought wood pellets like those which go in this little gadget and make stove along the lines of a nice safe camp fire. I thought they'd be a cool toy for enjoying on one of my luxury bike rides.
Of course I didn't bother with the gadget and instead tried burning the fuel in my little Ti Stove - firestarter and all. Long story short, having burned 4 of my storm-proof matches and half my lighter fuel, I gave up, put the fuel back in its box and dug out the liquid stuff. Of course at 8pm in the bottom of a railway cutting I didn't notice that everything was sooted up good and proper.
My other experiment was the 1000 calorie food sachets from Expedition foods. After last week's lacking experiences of the 450 cal version. The water quantity stated seemed a little low so I used the last of the fuel burn to brew up a little more water to supplement the original dose - figuring there would be nothing bad about chicken rice stew. Unfortunately I also squished about 100ml of the extra water up inside my coat, fidgeting whilst waiting for it to brew.
The last bit of brewing was accompanied by me wiping the soggy mess out of my coat. Fortunately the instructions were accurate and I'd brewed enough water and I wasn't disappointed with the quantity of food. The quality of the food was that of a dessicated food sachet approximately as described on the contents. It didn't taste of potatoes so it was an energy success that's useful to file for future reference. I got another 3hours riding out of the night and didn't snack too much in bed.
Only when I came to packing up did I realise I'd not put the lid back on my camelbak and my remaining water stash had gradually been seeping out into the leaves. I did the best thing I could come up with which was riding to Millers dale where the toilets are always open. I drank the last of my water on the way which was essential having just downed 800g of almost re-hydrated food. It's quite a long way to Millers dale when you realise your tyres have got a bit flat and your saddle keeps dropping down a bit.
Still, I made it, took a few minutes to enjoy the facilities and plan my route home.
I'll admit I was a bit spent and I couldn't afford to stop nearby because I had to be in work by 11am on Monday - preferably much earlier - so I had to get most of the way home before camping up. I opted for the road interspersed with some good bridleways. Then I made some foolish decisions to check out a route I'd done only once before, bailed and ended up in the bottom of Deep Dale. An exercise not to be repeated... except for the horrible bridleway in and the equally horrible bridleway out through a hoof-trodden field filled with bombhole cow foot prints and a steep slope. I have no idea how I didn't topple over the bars - even with the dropper down. I had to hunt for the exit gate in the fog and turning my Exposure light on didn't help because that just illuminated the water particles in the air. Once I found the 6 inch wide exit gate, I also found the tumbled down wall where other bikers (and presumably the majority of normal-to-only-slightly-obese people) had also entered the bridlepath.
Through a combo of lanes, the Pennine Bridleway and Limestone way and assorted other PROWs I arrived back at Peak forest then whooshed down to Bradfield and tanked back along the Hope valley bottom to a reliable spot I've used before. A bit of a cheeky one by the trailside but it was 1am and no bugger was likely to discover me.
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| No photo this year and last time I used it I clearly took a last-minute shot before clearing up. It is an emergency spot after all! Full disclaimer for my dysfunctional brain. |
The bivi went up in record time and I set up everything for the night. Then I got in and found the large tree branch I'd camped on top of. I wrapped myself around it and moved my helmet to the other side so I could avoid the conflict.
Despite my clothes and body being warm to the touch I shivered for (what felt like) about 2 hours, annoyed because I didn't want to wear my coat because my head was on it. Eventually, whilst fidgeting about trying to spread out my spare fleece and windproof top over my legs, I found my spare wool top which I'd carefully tossed into my sleeping bag earlier. I put that on then promptly passed out like a light. The next thing I knew, it was 4:45am and someone was making their way through the gate next to my spot. They said nor did anything and I fell asleep again. I was tempted by a lie in but the second alarm at 6 had me awake and hungry for more food - it was 10 hours since my last meal after all.
I packed up and rode over to the Ladybower Inn to push up the bridlepath that avoids the A57, all the while enjoying the scenery, the misted trees and trying to ignore the sound of rush hour traffic. Eventually I stopped at the stream where the remoteness from the road and the noise of a small waterfall serve to drown out traffic noise and allow for a peaceful place to brew up.
I prepared carefully and thankfully, what didn't seem to be enough fuel, was successfully eked out to produce enough boiling water first for porridge (that's serious dedication to prioritisation) and secondly coffee. I was close to a breakfast of coffee and sweets but held out for the porridge. I wonder if this is what Stu meant by growing up?
At the top of the trail there was another pleasant surprise. A fellow overnight camper - on foot this guy - to pass the time of day with as he was heading out and I was reluctantly heading home.
On the final climb I nearly went out of my way to avoid those few extra cars but the drain on my time resource had me stick to the road as far as Moscar Lodge. Close passes were few and far between for once and I even had a white range rover wait until it was safe to pass at a distance. I must have been looking fat and wobbly.
The ride in across the moor tracks and Rodside politely delivered the final parting shot with a view through the unfolding fog bank over the shroud that covered the city in a blanket of grey. Just a few peaks waved up around major heat sources in the city. It was a freakish display which the camera only partially captured.
I dropped through the fairy glen, unable to commit myself to the road - or the steep road up to the house - I instead diverted through the woods on an easier climb - but reverted to walking anyway. This was as much about being tired as it was dragging out the last of the weekend.
I got more out of myself by walking in on Monday morning, crusty, coated in soot and sweat and exhausted from 3hours 50minutes sleep than I would have had I spent Saturday night out. I had my computer on and straight into work and meetings, paused at 11:30 for a shower and second lunch then departed for a micro-kip at 3:30 before working a bit late to catch up the day again for a Tuesday meeting task. All in all it was one of the best cover-ups for an epic weekend I have ever masterminded.
Pleased with my comeback weekend at 70km in 12 hours with all the faffing that went on. Another 18 on Monday was icing on a very filthy cake.
Next time I'll not forget the pillow - probably just something else.
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