January bivi 2021 - When you gotta go you gotta go

Home to Houndkirk on the mtb but ridden on the road to meet Chris. A bit of mucking about at the Norfolk arms trying to find my frend.

Another day when I wanted to ride but also, I didn't want anything to go wrong - and that's what was stopping me getting out. Eventually, I rushed late out the door.

I rode up the roads but by the time I left lodge moor with snow squeaking under my tyres I was in heaven. I rode over Houndkirk surrounded by snow-coated heather that looked like white sparkling broccoli in the beam of my bike light.

When I reached camp my buddy was sitting on a wall waiting for me. Through the trees to a clearing where his tent was pitched and there was a long, thin that spot for me set aside.

Despite my loft pitch-check of the bivi bag, l only managed to locate the sleeve for the pole with some serious hunting and swearing. Otherwise it went up fine. I pegged out the feet end but needn't have bothered as I think I pulled them out in the night and have to return to fetch the pegs I lost another time. I did peg out the guys on the hoop as an experiment.

We got ready for the morning. L brewed water while I got into my warm coat and snacked for as long as I could stand the cold then we admitted defeat and went to our separate beds. A "dune buggy" for want of any better terminology passed by, exhaust blowing and continued to bez about on the moors for half an hour. We chatted over the noise - mostly about the view I had from my bag - snow, trees, the moon, stars some lights twinkling far below in the valley, just visible over the wall. For once, having taken the 4 season bag, I was cosy & warm. After watching the outside for a while I got a little cold so pulled up the gore-tex door to keep the breeze out, leaving myself a small window of ventilation and a view of our camp.

The vehicle left and I drifted off. Another passed at 2am but thankfully, passed through the gate and pressed on. I was disturbed occasionally by the wind clattering the trees above us and that made me somewhat paranoid we were about to be invaded by a herd of deer but a quick peek out through the mesh revealed all to be still outside. Other than an owl hooting in the night and the occasional shiver that was offset by some vigorous wriggling I slept through till 7:30 waking up toasty warm with light busting through. On inspection, the sun was rising over the wall. 

 

I papped it from my bed, arm stretched over the wall then called out to L. At first he didn't stir and as he'd injured his back yesterday, I wondered about letting him sleep. He'd been here before, must have seen it like this already right?

As I watched things just got more impressive so I tried again and a drowsy L exited from his tent-clutching his camera. " Fucking hell!" was the awesome response. I'm glad I persevered.

I'd given myself a stiff back by only sleeping in one position so brewing up from my bivi wasn't an option. Instead, I decided to get up. One of the guy ropes had undone already. I took the other out to ease movement and sat on the porch of my bivi on my thermarest to make breakfast. Due to the fact no moisture was falling, it was a very satisfactory arrangement but I do still want to carry a porch when it's raining.

 

Coffee, porridge, honey, smiles.

L went home to rest, I changed the dead battery on my spot then turned the other way to ride over to Burbage. I had a chat with Caroline and her dog, another local bike packer I just met. We talked about shoes - or more specifically - winter mountain bike boots.

 

Over to Stanage, Nether Padley, Hathersage, Thornhill, avoiding the worst mud. I stopped at Ladybower for 2nd breakfast + got doggy cuddles from a female spaniel. 

 

Over the burms - direct line Hike a bike. Enjoying the snowy trees and ice formations. There wasn't much but it was enough.

 Riding past Lockerbrook farm was exciting and involved walking over the steepest ice before dropping down the fire road in preference to icy gnar. I ate my lunch on a bench, trying to share Karg with an inquisitive Robin until the female spaniel reappeared and scoffed it all. One they had gone, the Robin wasn't going to settle for that, got bold and picked up all of the crumbs I dropped at my feet.

 

At the bottom I debated heading straight home but I felt good, the weather was beautiful and I probably had enough rear light to get me home.

I turned away from the crowds at the visitor centre and headed on up to slippery stones where I stopped out of the breeze and enjoyed having the water to myself. The ducks were bold enough to ask for food again.

The ride back down to the village was uneventful. I'd considered the climb up by the Ladybower inn as the quick and easy way home but it wasn't tempting & as the ground started to harden up I decided cut gate path and Doctors gate was more doable. Either way the steep bit was a hike. At the hut I enjoyed a cereal bar with a mag­nificent view and the company of John Brierly and son on their evening run. After the worst of the icy puddles across the edges I nailed the final climb out and even managed not to fall in the heather on the descent. At the doctors bridge I nailed the descent with a PB, grace to the dry, amazingly grippy conditions.

It was still light climbing up to Moscar but drivers passed too close. I was definitely going to do the offroad home. I passed the Lodge and farm then rode across Rod Side where large ice puddles crossed the whole road and I had to ride on the grass to get any purchase. On the third one I crashed my gears and had to push then as I crossed the last one my chain clipped and then snapped and lay at my feet. There were 10km to go but at least they were mostly downhill. as the gritting lorry passed, I packed the chain away and set off down the hill, plotting the most efficient way home and all the time wondering if my hands would let me get away with stopping to fix the chain.

I gave up on my offroad route, descending Onkersley Lane all the way to the A57 which would allow me the most freewheeling and long flat stretches as a worst case. On the flat I soon realised that I could use the slightly higher curb to scoot my bike with my left foot and then I remembered I had my dropper post. Sinking that down 3 inches my feet touched the floor and I scooted the bike all the way along the flats and rested on the downhills then staggered, cold and exhausted up the final hill to home.

LTH Zone record

 For the diary, tentatively bumping LTH up to 165 after Tuesday's session

Hike, to bike

Yesterday I rode my bike. Everything is upside down right now. I don't mean covid.  My running has improved. Cycling has nearly stopped. I ride my bike for 90 minutes and my recovery prediction is 60 hours. I've been in zone 4 for 10 minutes and I don't remember it.

I run 10 miles, don't get out of zone3 and my recovery is done by morning.

So yes my bike ride was hard even though it didn't feel like it. It didn't make me feel better. Though I did feel more alive for being in touch with the outdoors for that 90 minutes.

Today I went easy on myself but it was still essential to get out after spending both Monday and Tuesday wholly INSIDE.

Since it was chucking it down I dressed in full waterproofs and took the dog out. He's been dead 13 years but in my head I still walk with him a lot. I put my big-brimmed hat on so I didn't need a hood and stepped out into the rain.

As soon as I stepped outside the air started to hiss like the static from an HV pylon. I put my bigger gloves on, tightened my coat up around the neck and set off into the hail.

Rivers of slushy ice nuggets ran down the road against the slop of my boots. I marvelled at the tenacity and stupidity of people pulling away in their cars into the impending doom and plummeting temperatures.

In the trees the hissing intensified until I felt like a character in a poorly turned television, forever scrambled into black and white and audibly muted.

Somewhere amongst the trees the hail turned to sleet and then to snow and the whiteness started to settle. I had to peer over an allotment hedge unsure if a new spring had opened up or someone was just emptying their bathwater. No, it was a stream running faster than I had ever seen it. I stopped to photograph the woodland scene and a hungry robin appeared on the fence post next to me. Sadly the phone camera was not fast enough to catch him. I picked carefully down to easier terrain and watched drivers like lemmings following each other down Hagg Hill, nose to tail, hoping for the best, or worse, not even thinking. 

• • •

I passed the Lamas without remembering, bundled in my own quiet contemplations or closed observations of where I was placing my feet to avoid the puddles.

A woman ignored her nervous spaniel who seemed to permanently be asking, "is this right?". I got a nose-boop off a Whippet then dunked into the heart of a holly bush in search of a decent bivi spot but there was none to be had that was big enough.  When I emerged I realised it was too close to the road anyway.

Back on the road I left fresh tracks before turning off for the bottom of the valley. How late for work do you want to be? I guess only half an hour, go the long way another day.

• • •

Down at the river, levels were astonishing. Water flowed in laminar lumps over the weirs then broke into churning eddies where it met the natural rocks. Walking along the path between the river and the man made leet was like surfing a tidal wave as the water surged and billowed to my left and flowed lazily to my right.  The path was a wet strip down the middle

The tiny figure of a dipper flitted along the leet. He found a favourite spot, staying still enough for me to get out binoculars and watch him for a while. I stood transfixed socially irresponsibly slap bang in the middle of the path (no-one came by).

• • •

The little bird scuttled between the river bed and bank, diving in after dollops of snow that dropped, coming up every time with something in his beak which he ferried to the bank. He dived back in, submerged, surfacing seconds later in a splash of silver, gleaming through the dull brown flow, all a flurry of feathers. He bounced on his stick legs before going back for more. Sometimes his belly was white, sometimes stained brown from the muddy waters. 

He stood stock still when I passed but I stared too hard and his nerve broke and he flew away. Then I felt guilty and hoped he would find his stash again.

Time to shift now. Got to get into work. One last look at the wave of standing water in the park. A dog the colour of dirty snow playing stick in dirty snow, almost as invisible as my dog. I threw someone else's poo bag in the bin. Only 20 metres from the bin FFS.  Said good morning to the toilet cleaners from the council. At the end of the park the driver of a horse van was concluding Hollins Lane wasn't feasible without snow chains. I watched him reverse back out onto the main road to make sure he didn't cause a pile up then set about powering up the hill to home, laughing with incredulity at the bloke driving uphill into the snow from the security of his driveway eyes affixed firmly to the traffic report refreshing on the screen of the mobile phone clutched precariously between his left index finger and steering wheel.

I wondered how far he'd get as my footsteps faltered and I reached for the handrail to haul myself over the steepest lump, feet losing traction.

I dusted the life off my coat and hat took of my wet boots and put the kettle on ready for the drudgery of the day.

The Weighty Overhang of Christmas

I sat in all morning completing the dubious task of sending belated seasonal greetings cards, then ate lots of good energy food and set off with an ambitious target of finding out what I'm capable of on a run. 

Basically I'd have been happy with another 10km so soon after the last one but it was so beautiful out there. I got onto footpaths I don't usually use and the sun was still out, glinting off the remaining snow and a fresh sprinkling of new dust. I just kept going along the lane of puddles, down Onkersley lane then onward towards Wyming brook. I had a tiny wobble at the road. Would it be wise to carry on up or should I retreat to the reservoirs? I persevered.

At the point I needed a short walk, I checked my watch - 7.7km. 5 days ago that would have been my longest run in ages. I couldn't run on hard surfaces any more but the icy leaf mulch was ok.

The lower path at the junction in the woods won out over Lodge Moor and I stuck to footpaths in preference to the bridleways for a change of scenery.

As I scrunched across Fox Hagg a massive grin spread. I got that ski hill feeling. Despite what my brain thinks, my body really does function well in a harsh cold environment, especially with the sun on.

Talking of which, it only started to set over the golf course so by the time I had dropped down to my local park again small clusters of folk were out in the icy fields watching the sunset and drinking tea from flasks or smoking joints on the edge of civilisation.

More were heading out along the narrow bridleway so I adjusted (extended) my route to avoid them, zig zagging back through the allotments, the open field then communing with the dead at the cemetery. 

An angel on my shoulder said, "you ran 10 miles today". A devil on the other shoulder said "yes, but you walked a bit". "Yes," said the Angel, "but when did you ever run 10 miles and not walk a bit"?

Strava said it was my longest run ever on Strava. True but only my 40th ever longest run. I haven't run this far since 2018, the year I first gave up triathlon but still had some random fits of off-the-bike activity.

At least mountain racing gives me a reason to keep running as hours on my feet equal practice and strength training benefit. It's exciting though.

I have new places opened up to me now. Footpaths to places I have not been in over 4 years - and all within 150 minutes of home.

First ride of 2021

 All bloody morning I mooched around the house.  Not being a consumer of news I missed that Derbyshire is now tanking into tier 4 so I sulked that I can't go to most of my usual haunts in the Peak.  This is particularly crushing since I really fancied a night out with my mountain bike and had a route in mind.  I packed the bike anyway.

The only ride I plotted for this SouthYorkshire island philosophy was a 235km loop around our borders.  I didn't want to do 235km on the road on knobbly tyres - or on ice for that matter.

Eventually at about 11:45, I looked through the living room window and saw occasional flakes of snow starting to fall.  I wasn't going to mess about and miss out on this.  I've missed out on enough snow this year.  Bizarely I decided to stick to the plan, ride the route on the MTB and maybe take two whole days over it.

The route flew out the West of Sheffield as far as it could to loop back into town through Totley then pick up the border between here and Chesterfield and head East.  At least, I thought, I could do the off road bits that I know so I set off up the Rivelin Valley. 

At the top of the hill I couldn't get my foot out of my cleat.  I'd have to deal with that sooner or later.

On the first of the rollers through Bole Hills, the chain I fitted two days ago pinged off leaving me lurching across the road and fighting to get that foot out of my pedal.  Thankfully I stopped upright, patiently reversed to the chain lying in the road then hauled it into the undergrowth like a live snake screaming, "FUCK YOU!!!!!"

I could take this as a sign and just go home.  But I didn't want to just go home.

Two mountain bikers appeared out of the trail behind me and stared.

I explained the melt down and they worriedly asked "Oh no, have you got far to go?" - looking at my fully loaded bags. 

"No, I've just left home - that's the annoying thing".

I threw everything at the nearest gate, pulled out my toolbag and sourced a random quick-link, hoping it's the right size.

It seemed to fit OK (though I'm still not sure if it's the right size) and I carried on.

Deciding to take the road climb with some shiny new gear ratios instead of hiking up through the quarry, I took a seat on the road in a layby in a patch of ground that wasn't covered in snow to tighten up the cleats on my boots.  I haven't worn my 45N boots since last year so the position needed adjusting too.

Sadly, the bolts were cranked tight already so the failure to release seemed to simply be down to very very worn cleats not releasing from the pedals - but just on the one side!

I adjusted them anyway and had a chat with a runner who stopped to make sure I hadn't just crashed.

I took a slightly different route to Lodgemoor than usual - for variety and ease.  Someone called me brave as I rode into the pelting snow flakes and I did think "stupid" was more appropriate.  I was a little gutted I hadn't brought my goggles.  I'd never go out skiing in these conditions without goggles.  Still, I had glasses on and two sturdy peaks to shelter my eyes.

I rode through the play park near the flats and over the road to the steep climb out of the valley.

I thought of the cosy snuggliness of my sleeping bag when I got to my final destination and then it dawned on me that I hadn't packed my sleeping mat in with me.

Bollocks!  What to do now? 

There was nothing else for it really than to do a loop to home and then, if I still wanted a sleep-out, pick up the sleeping mat head back out.  Otherwise, crash on the sofa.

My mind flitted between that and the unfathomable challenge of keeping going on the route, riding through the night and doing an emergency bivi on a wooden bench if I really needed it.  The prospect of Andrew coming out in the van to rescue me gradually diminished with every falling flake of snow as he'd never actually get the car out of our road.

I couldn't remember exactly where the border of Derbyshire is but since there were no border patrol guards at the Houndkirk road checking South Yorkshire passports I decided to cross anyway.  

At the other end I realised I'd probably over-extended my reach so cut back across towards Blacka moor and bounced across there.  A few hike-a-bikes were had as the path through the heather was too tight for both me and the bike.  I was pleased to be able to lift Midnight over my back without any elevation assistance.  The gym work is paying off in small, almost undetectable ways but they bring me a lot of joy when I notice them.  In scotland I only managed about 9 steps like this with the bike loaded but last night, I made about 50 very positive steps before the heather ran out and I was able to ride the single track all the way down to Shorts lane.

A lot of cutting crisp snow with my tyres was had.  It made me extremely happy and woke me up to my wild side again.  

My layers of cotton wool were penetrated.  No route actually mattered anymore as I made up new routes from the bridleways in my own back yard. 

Descents were adorable.  I'd finally got my dropper post to start working again - down anyway.  I still had to stop to hitch it up by hand with the bag on.

Across Whirlow farm where a luminescent sign shouted "PIGS" at me across the farm track.

Through Whitely woods and along the finishing straight of the cyclocross course for old time's sake.

I rode along Porter Brook in the dark, not a dog or small child in sight then climbed up the back of Endcliffe flats to Ranmoor and over Crookes to home.  As I climbed the last hill my energy stores ran to zero and I realised it was dinner time.

By the time I got in the door, my gloves were starting to leak and my leggings were soalked through.  The option to go back out again dwindled into CBA as I sat on the sofa eating the food I had originally packed as my lunch, for my dinner.

The snow turned to rain and I was relieved not to have been out getting soggy and cold as I snuggled down under a duvet and a bed spread wearing whatever the hell I liked - rather than waterproof trousers for an extra layer of insulation.

Some other time, bivi bag.  Some other time.

Terra Nova Jupiter Lite Dry run

The bivi not showing up in time for my birthday camp pissed me off somewhat but in retrospect, a better night was had by all thanks to me heading out with my tent for a chilly damp night with pouring rain.

Trying the new bivi outdoors for the first time in December last-minute with the potential to leave myself no opportunity to return it if I were disappointed was not a good plan so, I was saved from myself.  Now that the bivi has finally arrived, I have put off off pitching it outside until I've got a clear head to check out all the things it's supposed to address about the old bivi.

If you're in the market for a new bivi and, like me, are falling short on detailed reviews of the Jupiter Lite from Terra Nova which seems like such a good product but you'd really like to know more before committing £200 to a plastic bag, then read on.

One of my biggest bugbears was people reviewing it without actually seeming to have slept out in it.  Guilty as charged for now but I'll update this post after it's first tough outing - which I hope won't be too far away.

"The Unbagging"

First out of the bag impressions were good.  It was a little weightier than my Z-packs solplex tent but smaller in dimension - which was the point of a bivi bag.  The components are the bag, it's pole (with a pole bag) and 6 aluminium pegs which, after touring with 8 titanium pins, felt like the heaviest part of the pack.

I initially "pitched" the bivi in my loft with a plush carpet to hold pole ends and (obviously) no pegs.

The pole was easy to thread through, even though my hands were a little chilly from the cold loft.  There's a hole where the storm flap is which had me threading the pole into the wrong space until I realised there's a continuous sleeve for it in a slightly different location.  Now I've learned that though, I don't think I'll make the same mistake again.  However, it is possible to use the storm flap as an easy quick thread if your hands are really fooked and you're struggling and desperate for shelter.  So whether that was their intention or not, I've tested it and it's an option. Subsequent performance not guaranteed!

I threw my Rab Neutrino 400 sleeping bag in it and Thermarest Neo Air standard size mat and shook everything down and laid it out.  My first impression is that without any pegs, the hoop does a pretty good job of standing upon its own. I added a Thermarest inflatable pillow for extra comfort. 

 

It's also handy not to have the hoop pegged up because you can flap it forwards around your waist to scoot further into the bag - more wriggle room to get in and out.  Without the guys out though, the storm flap would be floppy leading drips to fall into the open bivi or onto your lap or back of your neck instead of rolling away, so I imagine on a rainy camp those guys will get pegged.

Talking of wet, another advantage I noticed when I got in it first time - even without thinking about it - I managed to keep my feet and bottom on the goretex skirt that forms the head end of the bag. I only needed to put my hands on the carpet ("muddy ground") so in terms of staying dry, this is a bonus.

The first test was the toe test.  The problem with the old bivi bag (Terra Nova Discovery Lite aka "The Disco") is insufficient loft for my feet in the space available. I tend to sleep either on my front or on my back.  On my front I lie with my feet off the end of the thermarest so I toss my sit mat to the foot of the bag to rest my feet on. I've done the same on the test for the Jupiter. 

I also tested it lying on my back with my toes pointing up.  The issue I have with the old bag is with my head undercover, my feet are pressed to the base where my size 9s squeeze all the loft and warm air out of the sleeping bag.  I have to say, with my toes right at the bottom of the Jupiter bag I have the same issue - but shuffle up the bag 200mm and yay! there's still loads of space for my feet to loft and stay warm.

Toes at the end

Moved back a bit

I guess I can use the feet end to store something - though I'm not sure what I'd want to stash that far out of reach! The point is, with my Thermarest scooshed up to give me very cosy feet, my pillow is still on the goretex floor of my bivi and there's more space to go.  At this point it's worth saying I'm not a normal sized woman.  I'm 5'11".  If you're a much taller person though, do some thorough research on sizing.

There doesn't look like much space here, but at this point I had the bag rucked up underneath me!

The hood test

I needed to stop thinking of this as a tent. I know if I want a tent-like shelter, I'll need to carry a tarp too so this is never going to replace my Cuban fibre tent which is lighter than the bivi by 1 ounce (28 g), not in any way breathable, a bit drafty and needs good pegging ground.  It's good for wild moorland locations where there's peggable ground and no-one to notice me or legal camping rights.

Before I bought the bivi, I knew how small the hoop height was because I measured it on me. I knew I wouldn't be able to sit in it but it was a bit taller than me lying on my side or upon elbows.

Here we are with the glory glow of the Loft window behind. I have so far been overjoyed at the ease with which I can fidget around in the bag without getting tangled. Even without pegs it's like someone holding the covers up so you can turn over. There's enough space either side of the neo-air mattress that I can move it into place by supporting myself on my elbows and toes.This is great for those awkward moments when you're finally inside it and realise you've pitched on an uncomfortable rock.

For a moment, I was wondering what had happened to the cavernous space I had been promised and realised the bag was rucked up underneath me. It was easy to straighten out. So pegging it out might have prevented the issue all together - or made discomfort more difficult to resolve.*

* That's something to be answered in a field test. 

With the 2 hoods up (there's a mesh one and a goretex one), I instantly loved it even more. The hooped bivi touts the benefits of getting rid of the feel of claustrophobia. Claustrophbia has not been an issue for me win the flat bivi, I find it cosy but I'm more concerned about being cold and getting a bit clammy.

With the bug net only the cold air in the room (outdoors) permeates through easily.  Although this is a loft test, it's the coldest room in the house, the heating had been off for some time and the temperature outside was -1degreeC. With the gore-tex hood up, the temperature instantly increased from breath and body heat.

There's the mandatory notice sewn into the doorway about not having fires inside tents and always keeping vents open so you don't die of CO2 / CO poisoning or setting fire to yourself. There's some weight to be saved from cutting that out. (Keeping it for 200 years and wondering what the hell it came off). 

The gore-tex hood has a small mesh panel at the top which means, effectively a mandatory vent. How much ventilation it gives if you snag the storm flap down over the top isn't clear yet. 

Showing the mesh flap that's a part of the Goretex door which allows some ventilation, even with the door fully closed.

 

What it does mean is, if you have the goretex door half open. it's the softer mesh that rests on your face, not cold shiny goretex.  Pull the goretex door zips down far enough and it's stashed out of the way in the floor pan - just hope you wake up when it starts raining to prevent moisture falling inside the bivi.  I usually find the sensation of a wet face is enough to wake me up.

On the subject of claustrophobia, some people prefer a white goretex liner to get rid of that coffin-feeling.  The interior of this bivi is dark green. Fine by me, I prefer my nights dark.

Loads of shoulder space with the saggy storm flap hanging down - should be pegged out.

With the hood up the size really does come into its own.  In the pic above, I have my A5 tablet at the head of the bivi making notes. I could fit my 20 litre rucsac here.

Clear space above my head and shoulders

When I lie on my side there's a full 4.5inch hand width between my shoulder and the "roof". I can run my arm over my hip without straining the goretex fabric or compressing the down.

I also managed to scrunch the sleeping bag to the bottom, negotiate removing and replacing a pair of leggings (OK, PJ bottoms, it's 2020 - don't judge me!) and got back into the bag with much more ease than I expected. I've got long thigh bones so that was a surprise. It allows me to add or remove (yeah right!) an extra layer at night without getting wet if it is raining. I can't guarantee I'd be able to do it without getting cramp after riding or hiking all day though!

When lying on my back, the bag is cavernous allowing full down loft around where my hands usually live - on my belly or by my sides. Even my ever-cold feet warmed up in this cold loft trial.

• • •

Other things the reviews don't say (because they're too busy going on about not suffocating). The hood zips are two-way which is great. The one way zip on the disco had me committing my back to the wind which wasn't always aligned with the slope of the land or the scenery I wanted to wake up to. Also, wind changes direction.

One person recommended getting reflective tags for the zips and different coloured ones might be an idea to differentiate the mesh zipper from the goretex zipper as I constantly got hold of the wrong one. They're quite jingly though so I'd say not too difficult to locate in the dark. 

In the hooped bivi the two way zip gives the sleeper the choice of ventilation where it 's wanted: at the top because hot air rises; or at the side away from the breeze - or into the breeze if you need to ventilate heavily.

• • •

Tarp Theory

Tarpiture with this bivi would be useful in the current climate where self-provision of brews and porridge has been more of an essential than an indulgence. I've been trying to come up with an excuse to take this out and play in the snow instead of taking the tent.  That would mean a night  in its current form - sprawled on the floor of a building somewhere, or under a cliff somewhere sheltered - un pegged but also, possibly, bloody cold. 

Speaking of which I'll disturb the cat off the four-season bag and do a proper full winter (indoor) test. 

I have been considering a tarp pitch with this bivi for that all-round tenting comfort. Anything at the head end to keep the rain off would need to be big enough to sit up in to enable access and egress through the opening of the bivi. It would detract somewhat from the ability to star-gaze and wildlife-watch.

Because the head end already has a built-in shelter, a foot-end shelter could be nice for gear storage and extra wind protection for the areas pressed closest to the goretex fabric.

Should one be feeling really soft, a tunnel bivi would give extra rain or snow protection. I'd be considering this for bad weather forecasts where I know I need to brew up too and I want to sit somewhere dry to do it.

For lightweight, stove-free, sleep-when-you-drop style travel, I considered a tarp-only, no pole, flat sheet (Ugly tarp) to peg out taught over my bike, boots, lid rucsac, coat and anything else that's so disgusting I don't want it in my bivi bag but I don't want it to get any wetter overnight either.

I have also considered a Porch tarp, using the hoop off the Bivi as a support on one edge and my tall tent pole on the other edge to give me an open view and a seamless transition from lying down to sitting up.

This isn't really a recommend­ation - more of a reminder to self to try it sometime.*

Extra Features

While I'm in the bag though, I should also say how well put together the zip space is.  So far I haven't snagged the fabric at all except for that annoying floppy fire-warning ticket that's definitely coming off.

I had it in my head that there was supposed to be a pocket in this bag but, having investigated, I think that must be the Rab eVent Ridge-raider bag - a self-confessed "almost a tent" which I discounted because I already have a tent and I like being able to look up at the sky. Weight-wise, I can't really mourn the loss of a pocket for my glasses as they usually live in my helmet. Apart from the head-space for a book (according to the hiking clan) or a Rucsac, (for those of us rehydrating from a camelbak!), there's not a LOT of extra space for kit.  The Rab Ridgeraider is 5cm longer and taller (and heavier) and one reviewer claims to have got dressed and packed away his kit inside whilst a storm raged outside.  I can't say this would happen in the Terra Nova, unless you want to do a lot of lying on cold goretex pressed against wet ground outside.

To prove how visible the world is through the mesh, the cat has obliged and moved so time for the 4 season bag test.  As its built by Terra Nova I have no concerns that this mesh will keep out midges as well as larger beasties.

A (thankfully) disinterested editor in chief

I bought this winter sleeping bag in 1997. Down was fairly new to mainstream outdoors world or maybe just new-to-me as I scrimped together the cash on the basis I was being paid £35 per right expenses for a "hotel" and was spending £10 per night for a campsite in Kircaldy in November. Ah, those were the best and worst of times. In trying to ID the sleeping bag's origins or it's temperature rating, I have noticed that the care label still has the phone number for the shop where I'm supposed to get it dry cleared in Sheffield, even though I bought the bag in the sale at an outdoor shop in Dunfermline. 

Some very specific care instructions.  I did wash this bag once, in the bath at home.  It was like trying to drown a sealion.

What I can tell you is it's the only bag that makes me grin like an idiot when I get in it and it requires an entire handlebar bag all to itself to transport it.

Since I've moved enough to fetch my 4-season bag I've realised it is lunchtime and my sandwich has given me more reason to admire and critique.

I had wondered about the guy lines as they are clearly oriented to cross right in front of the bivi entrance - one of the few negatives cited by one other reviewer.  The guy loops are simply tied but robust and fitted with linelocks for easy tensioning.

There's a toggle to sinch down the storm flap but it's only on one side which seemed a bit weird.

Whilst I appreciate this for weight saving, it only really applies the tension on that side of the storm flap. The cord runs all the way over the hood and is elasticated so for a while it just stretches instead of applying any real tension all the way along.  Some substantial messing about outside the bivi pulled some of the tension through to the other side but by then the tight side was scarily tight, the goretex started to snag in the toggle and 18 inches of floppy elastic was sticking out of the bivi.  

Rucked on the left, still saggy on the right.

If I find the storm flap tension to be an issue I'd contemplate re-working with a toggle at each end or some less stretchy cord so the tension is evenly distributed. Were I to tighten this from inside a) it would take a while b) I'd be warm by the time I'd finished c) I'd need to undo it again to get out as it really does close off the opening. If driving rain is the issue then I guess this is a good thing. 

• • •

Lunch is over, but before I get in the four season bag I have to mention the bivi's colour.

A big regret of mine with my Cuban fibre tent was not buying the brown colour. The bright silver doesn't half stand out in the open landscape of the Peak District. The target market of the bivi has always been stealth green and the technically-not-camping because it's not a tent argument. Do bear with me.  This is an internal argument that could take decades of therapy to get over so accept me for who I am. 

Not only is this bivi a wonderful dark yew tree green, it has a sheen that is the colour of Christmas. Given its arrival on 27th December, it is the messiah of bivi's.

The four season bag clearly fills more if not all of the space available

Getting into the four season Rab I am really pleased. Whether I go out for any more than one winter bivi remains to be seen but just look at the loft. 

 

The Jupiter

The Disco with the same sleeping bag inside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sitting upright with my feet fully flexed my toes are compressing the loft into the fabric of the bag but there's still plenty of sag in the fabric so I'm only losing loft to the compressive weight of the material in the bivi bag.

Lying on my back, there's still plenty of loft above my torso and hips. If I lie on my side the shoulders of my sleeping bag just touch the roof of the bag. There's no loft around my hips which possibly says more about the baffling in my old sleeping bag than it does about the bivi bag as there's still plenty of slack fabric at my waistline.

Just enough and this sleeping bag is pretty epic.

I guess that now my review is done the last thing to talk about is the price and the nit-picking little things. I'm all up for paying for high quality gear. I'm unlikely to buy a cheaper widget if there's a better, more expensive widget out there. As such, I now have a fleet of Terra Nova kit that's rarely let me down. Even when a 10 year old tent pole failed in Canada in a harsh Quebequois storm, the fabric did not tear and the pole limped-on via duct tape splint until it could be replaced a few days later. So I have no reservations about the durability or waterproofness of this kit. 

I'm not sure you could achieve the bendiness of the aluminium pole with a carbon one but for the price, it would have been nice to see.  However, a quick research of the pole reveals it's some high tech aluminium engineering and the weight is impressively low - just by looking at it, it's hard to tell that it's metal, not fibre.  On balance I like the aluminium theory.  Having stepped on a bendy C-fibre pole and snapped it in a woodland camp, I like the idea that I could pitch this bivi in a raging storm and have it survive.  Whether I'm tough enough is another matter - but I'm certainly stupid enough and it would be nice to see my £200 bag survive - even if I don't.

The cheap, nasty aluminium pegs it came with will be added to the pile of shit we won't use until we're so old we're reverted to car camping again. From my bed I'm actually debating whether the weight of the bivi will match the weight of the Cuban tent if I leave the pegs out. My unpacking experience was one of, "crikey, these pegs are a third of the weight!".  They also look like they were sharpened by a small child using a grinding wheel.

All different shapes and sizes.

 

Finally in the robustness vs weight quality Dept, I'm not sure two chunky eyelets is necessary each side of the pole.

The other peg-out tabs have been reported to have come off by industry reviewers and with a single line of stitching holding them in, I can see why.

 Again; they're bulky and as flat loops, they don't seem shaped for pegging out. I guess if you want to leave the bivi. somewhere for the day and do something without it the peg loops will stop it taking off in a breeze. Perhaps they'll also stop the foot end from flapping onto the sleeping bag causing soggy feet - will investigate and report back.*

Oh yeah, there's the size thing though. 

Compared to Cuban which isn't a breathable membrane: smaller, in this case, is not consistent with lighter. 

The Jupiter weighs 548g with 106g of pegs!  For a hooped bivi there are only two lighter on the Ultralight website (Oudoor Research Helium (448g and no pegs) and the Lightwave Stormchaser (522g and 36g pegs)).  Take out the pesky 106g of pegs and it is the lightest.  It's almost half the weight of the Alpkit Elan hooped bivi (900g).  

While the cuban tent is 28g lighter and roomier, it is not as compact as the bivi which, when packed to something an inch or two shorter, is 2 inches smaller in diameter. 

 

It's curved pole is a little less convenient but not insurmountably so. I think the pole came with a little bag - to prevent it snagging the bivi perhaps? However, when put to use I'm starting to question whether this bag came with the Jupiter at all or is from something else I have lying around the gear room? The pole doesn't fit in it and the toggle is completely different from the one on the bivi bag and the other storage bag.

The first time I packed the Jupiter away, I packed it quite tight then it unfurled a little on the scales. I folded it into thirds which was a bit narrow and I had to wrestle it a bit to get it in the bag with the pole but it went and at least the stuff sack is long enough for the pole, even if the pole bag is not. 

I repacked it folded in half which is good because you can wrap the wet groundsheet against itself with the theoretically dry upper sandwiched inside.  We all know this theory doesn't pan out.  Wrapping a dry bag inside a wet back and putting it in a bag results in two wet bags.  Nothing will get away from that fact.

The bungee cord neck-pull on the bag can do one.  It's too heavy, too fiddly and ineffective at tightening the neck.  It's already been replaced with some dynema cord that was kicking about on the floor.  Again, the elastic just stretches until there's inches exposed when you finally get some tension.  I'm starting to get the feeling bits of this bivi bag were finished off a few weeks into lockdown when materials and parts were becoming scarce. Thery're no longer available at Terra Nova and Ultralight seem to have sold out (they're not on the website any more so I'm really glad mine finally showed up 24 days later).  

The neck closure on the Disco bivi is good old Dynema cord - though this might have more to do with Bearbones Norm than Terra Nova. 

 

So far,  I love this bivi but it's a bit annoying when a £200 plastic bag comes with a to do list:

• rework pole bag to be long enough and shave a few grams by making it skinnier.
• clips to peg up the foot end for added loft - simple and I think might work to keep my feet that little bit warmer.
• Considering replacing the storm flap toggle with something smaller, lighter and non elasticated. Bigger project when I'm committed to keeping the bag - ie. have proved its water-proofness in the real world. 
• Cut out the fire warning toggle - also a committed task
• make myself feel good about the expense and the extra 1oz of weight by testing to see if I can actually fit the bivi plus my big coat in my handlebar bag. This is bike packing Nirvana for me because I either have to wear my big coat or pack it in my rucsac.
• Test pegging out versus free-roam pitching versus a pegged pitch
  
• Test out porch tarp
  

Given that I'm quite excited about it, winter outdoor test coming soon.

Not so Easy. Not so Monsal. Long, yes.

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.

I descended on a trail I've never ridden before - that is to say - accident­ally on a footpath. It wasn't going well for my tyres in the slidey off-camber mud so I pushed the bike back over to the bridleway.

• • •

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.