Jim's Yo Ho O. 2023

 At the end of December there is a bit of a get together and a semi-unofficial orienteering event put on by the Pennine FR legend that is Jim. I did it a few years ago, but for the last couple of years have been otherwise indisposed on the day of the fun- normally driving back from the Isle of Wight or some such. This year, I was in Glossop and the weather looked... tasty. The tail end of Storm Gerrit was still mooching across the moors with wind gusting from Force 4 to about 7 or 8, and the promise of significant amounts of precipitation. Not so cold as to be *fun* precipitation, but just the right temperature to be *grim*.

Absolutely shorts weather then. 

The course is set out like a standard Orienteering map, with checkpoints and corresponding points, though this year, in tribute to a sadly departed stalwart of Pennine (and MDOC)- John Williams, 5 of the checkpoints weren't on the map. Oh no. You had to get to one of the checkpoints (numbers 1-5), where a small map was attached to the flag for the OTHER checkpoint, that was within 750 metres of your current location.... double trouble checkpoint action! Sounds fun? Absolutely. And with a 4 hour cut off, there really is time to run yourself ragged over some pretty gnarly terrain. 

Starting from Little Hayfield I took the option to go anti-clockwise, heading to Check1 at the bottom of Sandy Heys, wondering if I would have to double back on myself for the "bonus" checkpoint. Easy running along footpaths and bridleways giving me time to think about onward planning, got me to checkpoint 1 relatively easily. 

The paired check was further to the east, so that meant that a potential climb up Sandy Heys to Check3 was disregarded in favour of the direct climb to check 4 (which had more points) at the trig point. 

This was a slow leg and I think I've found some very good ground for practicing hill climbs on pretty tough gound! Despite the forecast, it was very clear at this point, and the wind was from the south west, which definitely freshened as you got to the top. The trig was easy to find, and the paired check was down on the fence line halfway up Upper Redbrook. However- there was another checkpoint further to the east up the grough line from Nether Redbrook. 

Being an idiot, I decided to kind of try to straight line it, despite the fact that I didn't have a compass out, didn't have anything to aim for, and was going off pure "I reckon it's that way". As I got further and further into it, I recognised that the other side of the coin that was previously disregarded- going to the Northern Edge Path, run along that to Nether Red and then go up the clough- was probably a better idea. So I kind of dropped a bit north until I got close to the path, spied the grough line, dropped into it and then followed it to the Control. 

Could have been a lot slicker with that one- might have lost 5mins or so with the faffage. 

Previously the idea as to whether to drop from there to the Footbridge at 15, or go to the Sabres at 11 was the question... with a paired checkpoint at Upper Redbrook, it was a no-brainer. To Upper RedBrook, the Sabres, then down the Ashop to 15. 

Easy pickings now, as the weather stayed clear. Along the Northern Edge and a significant drop down the brook to the stile. Pick out the Sabres in the distance and pick a trod to run along to get to the wreckage. By the flag there was a little box with a prize for those who got to this checkpoint, which was well received, and then about turn and down to the Ashop and a jog along the track to the hut ruin and Foot bridge- which is always futher than you think. 

The obvious next place was check 19, up Red Clough- on the map it seems pretty obvious where you should be going. The grough lines look huge. They are indeed deep- but they are not very obvious. It was here that I was starting to second guess myself and ended up wandering around for a while cursing the geography and my inability to find a stream junction. I probably lost a good 5-10 mins here with the faffage, but eventually got the flag after casting around for a fairly specific grough that should have been obvious, and following it. Got it- and then ... well- there's a 60 pointer to the North. It'd be rude not to go for that. 

So I've been going for an hour and a half, all good. I've eaten something, am jogging uphill and over Featherbed Moss, all is good. A couple of alterations of course to make sure I'm getting to the right place (and a change of gloves from Warm mitts to Waterproof mitts), and soon enough I'm dropping down towards Snake and the furthest checkpoint. I've been here before and know where it is. 

The next few are interesting. Do I go direct West from here to pick up 17, and from there, again West ish to get 18? The ground is, at best, awful- and will be very time sapping. Do I go south along the Pennine Way to pick up 20? 

Considering the ground, I decided to go with an easy run to the high point on the PW and drop North West to pick up 17, retrace my steps (ish)- to the PW and then drop south to get 20, retrace steps AGAIN back to the PW to pick up the trod back down toward turfpits for 18. It seems a little round about and uppy-downy, but the trods were a better option (with more points) than attempting to contour through heather and bog. 

There was only a mild hiccup as I tried to run towards the wrong clough at check 17, and it took a while for my brain to compute that I needed to be in Span clough, NOT Holden. Doh. Must be getting tired. 

So 17, 20. 18, and now a horrible contour through heather, bog and goodness knows what to 5- where there would be a bonus checkpoint. It's getting colder now as I've slowed down a bit, taken on food and am heading into a headwind, and my brain is starting to think about stopping. 

The contouring is kind of uppy-downy and over to a section of Bakestone Delph that is very wet indeed. There are a number of ways out of here, but none of them are particularly pleasant. The paired checkpoint is DOWN, which is kind of annoying, but at least it means that I don't have to grovel my way up a full flowing stream, and it suits me well. The next checkpoint I want to get to is over by the Trig. Technically, I *could* fight my way across the bog, but it will be easier underfoot, and probably faster overall to drop to the path to the shooting cabin, up the trod by the grouse butts and across to the trig, even though it's longer. 

As I head to the paired check it rains. Then as I go off toward the shooting cabin, it hails, the wind comes in, hood up, both sets of mitts on. Grim- and I'm not moving fast- and there isn't a huge amount of time left. My brain is already planning routes off once I hit this final checkpoint. This is the longest I've been out in months and I'm starting to feel cold and unhappy. 

Stop in the windshadow of the hut for a gel and a quick talking to myself, and off up the hill to try to find the trod thay links this grouse butt line across 2 cloughs to the trig point. As I ascend the precipitation reduces a bit, and it is easy to see where I'm going. After a couple of false starts, I find the right line, and get to the trig, and from there to the control, where there is a paired control marked. 

Looking at it, it really isn't far away, but it's across a bog. I don't recognise that on the other side of the bog there is a fairly decent path- all my brain is saying is "there is a way off to the West- it goes down and out of the weather. It's runnable and you'll get another checkpoint on the way in". 

 

And I give in to the voice, and go that way. 

Looking at it now, it would have been just as easy, and just as fast to go across the bog to the paired checkpoint, and ALSO get the other, final point as well, but, as I say... cold, tired, wet, want to get off th hill, don't want to be out any longer in case I injure myself through fatigue- all contributed to the decision to just head off the easiest and most obvious trail. 

Down the hill and off- then a final up and down to the finish, and in with a generous amount of time left. I could *easily* have got that extra 20 points, ah well. 

Off and finished- what an excellent time out. Thanks to Jim and PFR for their kind hospitality, and of course to the Lantern Pike Inn (fishfinger sarnies and chip butties!). I wouldn't have been doing much else today, and the chance to get out for 4 hours of hammering around the general area of Kinder was jolly fun. I realise that I haven't quite got the endurance for a 4 hour event at the moment, but that's fine. Plenty of time to do a whole lot of training yet. 

Where are you headed?

 Every year I tend to post a link to a previous blog- Go outside, sit down. Wait. It's a decent read, even if you've read it before. 

The reason why I'm writing a kind of new/semi-update is because this kind of happened over the weekend and it was simple fortune that the casualty happened to be in a place with some kind of phone signal. 

Backstory: Snow over night. Icy on the ground. A barmy -5 air temp, clear blue skies. A bloke goes out running in the morning on a route he knows well. Tells his wife "where he is going"- and what time he should be back- in about 2 hours. 

40 mins later, the police get a call from the runner with a suspected fractured leg with a short description of what he has run past- though not his exact location, and pass the information on to Mountain Rescue. There is a further vague message, potentially from his wife that he might be on one of the lower level footpaths around here- but that doesn't match the description given by the casualty on the phone.... 

By the time the Mountain Rescue team get a team out of base, he has been sat in the snow (albeit with a foil blanket) for more than an hour. Although it is a bright, clear day, he is not in the sun and is slowly making less and less sense on the phone as he becomes gradually more hypothermic. 

He can answer the phone- but he can't use it to give us a direct location as he doesn't have his glasses with him. Why would he? He's going on a run.

Due to the information passed to us on the phone by the casualty himself, a team was on the hill and with him within 1.5 hours as he was going pretty hypothermic - with a very messed up leg. That's well within the time (2 hours) that his wife would have happily expected him to still be enjoying his run. 

What if he had just gone a bit further up onto the moor before this happened- and then snapped his leg in an area with no signal? 

When does the wife get worried enough to callout mountain rescue if he isn't home in the allotted 2 hours? Immediately? After 2.5? 3?- 

and when she DOES eventually call through- what information do we have? 

That he has gone for a run, potentially along a low level footpath that he wasn't on at all. (mixed messages? misunderstanding of potential route?- who knows)- but by that time, he'll have been in the snow with a snapped leg for 2-4 hours going severely hypothermic in an as yet unknown location.

And if you didn't know already, trauma and hypothermia as a double act are not a good combination. 

Now- I know that sometimes when you head out, you don't know exactly where you are going. Equally, it might be nice to know that people DON'T know exactly where you'll be. 

However, as one of the people that might have to put together a series of vague (sometimes incorrect) clues as to where you might be when you're ovedue/have fallen down a hole that is out of signal and snapped your leg etc. it would be really handy if someone knew at least where you were vaguely intending on going, and when you were planning on being back. 

Note- this is not just for runners- walkers are in the same bracket, and just because you *think* you're carrying more than an average runner in your rucksack, it doesn't make Mountain Rescue come any faster... in fact, you might have told someone you'll be 5-7 hours on the hill... that is a LONG time to wait before being certain that MR have been called.

Where exactly are you planning on going again?!

Whenever I go out I give Lynne a rough plan of where I'm going, what time I'm planning on being back, and a "pull the cord" time- when if she hasn't heard from me- call 999. Chances are, if I'm ok, then I'll have signal *somewhere* and should be able to tell her that I'm ok. If I'm not- then I know that there is a specific time when I *know* that MR have been called. 

If you don't know how to call Mountain Rescue in the UK- it's 999, and ask for Mountain Rescue through the Police. 

It's glorious out there. Enjoy the hills, be safe, have an escape plan, and know when you need to call it in.

Hill and Fell relays 2023- Leg2

 Originally I wasn't going to be running this. Generally speaking each person in the club apparently gets "1 relay run a year", though I wasn't aware of this. However, due to various people deciding to run, then not run, and teams being shuffled and reshuffled (as is always the case to the frustation and stress levels of those organising the teams) I ended up being partnered with Ben Tetler on Leg 2. 

Ben is a faster runner than me- kind of in the same league as how Chris is a faster runner than me, so I was under no illusions that this was going to be a fairly challenging day out. None the less, it was most likely to be a fun day out as well. It was useful to be on Leg2 as I had to leave early to get back for an MRT exercise- so that fell into place nicely. 

The Relays were held by Keswick this year, and so started in Braithwate, which brought  back memories of a hiking holiday I went on with Rob back in oooh- 2006 which is mainly remembered for waking up every morning with ice on the inside of the tent, seeing footprints in the snow of fellrunning shoes and thinking "wow- imagine living somewhere that you own a pair of shoes with spikes in *specifically* for days like this, and, on the last day, walking down off Grisedale Pike, being overtaken by a fellrunner and thinking "that's amazing. I wish I could do that- no chance living in London". 

So here we are. Vet40 team for Glossopdale. A pretty crisp day, but with a fair amount of rolling clag across the tops. Neither Ben nor I had had any time to get up to recce the leg, so we were just going to go with the safest lines, which were the ones on the map. Leg 2 is about 12.5k with 1000m of ascent (unless you recce it, take some sneaky lines, and then its only about 950). Jamie Helmer was on the first leg and set off circumspectly, gaining places over the course as other, more enthusiastic starters began to regret their decision to go out hard. Ben and I got through kit check and warmed up- reccying the first 300m of the course (oh how detailed), and went back to the start pen waiting for Jamie to come in. 

 

The general plan for the day was for me to go as fast as I could, and for Ben to be nice to me and not blast off up the hills at a pace I couldn't follow. Now- if you read the last blog about the HBMR relays, you'll know that I ended up with a bit of achilles tendonopathy after that, so for the last 3 weeks I've been concentrating on rehab and very much *not* running, in the hope that it would be ok for today. It had been getting better and better, but I figured that it might hurt today, but as I don't really have any more races after this, it didn't matter too much if it flared. So this could be interesting.

We saw Jamie on the last little slog up the hill to the final downhill blast and got ready in the start pen along with a number of other teams, and once tagged, we were off. The initial climb wasn't too bad- and was generally fairly runnable. Ahead of us we could see (amongst many others) the Dark Peak V50's and the Pennine V40s, both of whome seemed to be making pretty decent headway. Dark Peak were closer and we overhauled them just as we got to Barrow Gill, but Pennine remained stubbornly ahead. 

I was trying not to go too deep too soon, especially as I saw Outerside, the first actual peak, and was thinking- "well, thats maybe a quarter of the way in... don't go too silly- hold something back for the harder climbs". The initial running was very much Mudclaw territory. Plenty of sloppy bog and mud to sink the studs into, and you could see the people that weren't wearing shoes with that amount of grip as we passed team after team. However, on the climb up to Outerside, the bog gave way to stone where anyone with any kind of inov8 was immediately swearing at the ridiculous lack of anything resembling friction under their feet. This was going to be an interesting leg. Maybe I should have been wearing a mudclaw on one foot and a VJ on the other?

We bust up Outerside as fast as I was able, mainly trying to keep to the vegetation parts of the climb, avoiding people sliding across slippy wet rock, and managed to catch and pass Pennine V40's just prior to the top. Although the tops were still clagged in, I looked down and across from the Checkpoint and thought "this is pretty much the Teenager with Altitude line- I know this"- and off we clattered down towards Birkwith Beck overtaking another team, and seeing several others in our sights, who we caught up with, and then overtook along the rough traverse and down the steep descent to the main path up to Coledale hause. 

Yes- me on a descent- but not the one down to the beck (there was no-one there taking photos)

I'm not going to lie- this was not a high point. Ben seemed very in his element driving hard up the moor across the bends of the path- while I chugged a gel and held on for dear life. Taking the main path would have been less efficient, and at this stage I would have been going at the same speed over a zigzag terrain as direct up a moor, so in fact we gained on the teams in front. Ben had his eyes on the Bingley Vet team- the only way we could pass them was if they slowed down- I wasn't about to get any faster!

As we climbed to the Checkpoint at Coledale Hause I looked across and 99% of the teams ahead of us were climbing the main scramble up Eel Crag. There was a sole Keswick team traversing across the bottom of the crag- which looked like a decent line, but one that you'd only really want to take if you'd previously reccyed it (which, presumably being the host team, they had). It would have been great to take a sneaky line there, but considering the clag was still a bit down, and this was around an area characterised by places such as "Eel Crag", "Scott Crag" and "Scar Crag", it didn't seem like a good idea to start going off piste. 

Dibbed at the Hause, and then a scramble up Eel crag. Again, anyone in inov8s was cursing the lack of any kind of grip on stone. If you put your foot on any kind of rock you could guarantee that you'd slip. It was genuinely ridiculous. I might have slightly rose tinted specs on here, but about 10 years ago you could get a pair of shoes that gripped on mud AND rock, these days, it seems like that ability has been lost- which is really weird. Anyhow, a slog to the top of Eel crag, and by now, my legs and lungs are really starting to feel it. A Keswick team (not the one we'd seen earlier) came past us, and a Helm Hill team that we had just overtaken, and so at least we had someone to follow a little way to the top of Eel Crag in the mist. 

Then came a fairly technical descent down and across to the ascent to Sail. Ben was wearing Walshes, and so had a totally different grip to mine. Stepping where he stepped didn't necessarily mean I was going to get the same stability as him, so it was quite interesting to notice how we descended differently according to what gripped and what didn't.

Up to Sail- a dib, and then down to Sail pass in the cloud that slowly cleared as we descended. My legs were shot, and this was amply demonstrated by Ben quite happily skipping down the hill where I would have normally followed without a second thought. Having been on the edge for 40?50? mins or so, I just couldn't keep the power down, so got to the bottom about 10 seconds after him. On the climb to Scar crags the Keswick and Helm hill teams slowed a little, and we passed them both at the top and had a beautiful ridge run down- looking ahead to the next gaggle of teams who were just dropping down off Causey Pike- a fair distance ahead. Gotta keep running....

Dib at the path junction and a hard left down what would be, in a lesser state of fatigue and cardiovascular stress, a beautiful descent. Still, despite my legs not working quite as well as they should, we were making time on the teams ahead. Over Stonycroft Gill and onto the main path where I got a little respite before heading to Barrow Door where, just before the final climb, I turned my right ankle. Dammit. Not something I wanted to do right now. It wasn't desperate, but it still hurt a fair amount. 

The final climb to Barrow *should* have been utterly runnable, but along with that recently twisted ankle, there were times where I was having to power walk- slightly annoying as Ben could certainly have gone faster. Final dib at the top of Barrow, and the final descent. Again one made for Mudclaws. A couple of teams were ahead of us, and I was confident we would catch them before the end. Ben, who was running at seemingly a lower level of intensity than me was still able to barrel down hills at a speed that I should have been able to keep up with, but I was losing ground due to fatigue and the ankle. 

The final sprint down to the finish

 

We passed a team at the bottom of the hill- just as we climbed to the final descent to the event field, and then passed another team, despite me having to walk at the top- with a final ripping downhill to finish, barely slowing for the fence where we tagged Rick and Neal who headed off on the Nav leg. 

Tagging

 

What a great route! I'm certainly going to go back and run it at leisure at some point, but crikey- at the end of this EVERYTHING was just tired and battered. 

Looking at the results now, we finished in 1:31, which put us 35th fastest overall, and 8th in the V40 category. Our run brought the team into the top 10 V40 teams, which Rick and Neal on Leg 3 and Steve Brown on Leg 4 managed to hold on to until the end- 9th V40, which was pretty decent. 

Thanks to Keswick for putting on such a fantastic event, truly a great day out. Thanks to Ian and Neal for herding cats getting the Glossopdale teams together. It really is a monumental task of management- though it really shouldn't be. Congrats to our other teams- 2 Open and a Supervets team for getting out there and running some pretty tough legs. Impressive, big hearted running. Thanks also to Clare and Sean for the use of their photos and video- much appreciated.

And yes, I got back home with enough time to spare for a shower, some food, got changed and went straight back out for the Exercise. Great fun. 

Oh- and the achilles feels fine. It'll still need a bit of rehab and tender care over the next few weeks, but the running didn't seem to affect it adversely. Happy days. 

"Out of our control"- dermatology nightmare

I should be in the Pyrenees, cycling from one end to the other, right now. I get updates from the guys who are doing it, and they're having a blast. 

Why am I not there? I hear you ask. 

Well, when we were in the planning stage, my ecsema was so bad that I couldn't even contemplate being away from medications for a couple of days, let alond a couple of weeks, especially if it was going to be a lightweight trip, with consecutive long days in the saddle. The thought of how bad it would be in terms of skin loss, bleeding and itchiness didn't even bear thinking about. 

In the meantime, I've been trying to get onto another, potentially life-changing medication- in fact. I've been trying since June and lets say, it hasn't been plain sailing in any way shape or form. 

You may know that I've been on Methatrexate for a year now. It's an immunosuppresant that is (amongst many other things) meant to reduce the build up of excessive skin cells, which should reduce the itchiness, scaliness and general nastiness of escema. It kind of worked for a bit, but in the last year I have had to be on actual steroids to reduce big flare ups, despite being on Methatrexate. In medical parliance, I have "failed treatment". 

This is where it gets fun. 

So I have to have regular blood tests to make sure that I am not becoming too immunosuppressed. These are taken at my local GP surgery, sent to the local hospital where they are checked, analysed, put onto a system which then gets pushed to my GP, whereupon it also gets pushed onto my NHS app on my phone, where I can check my bloods as well. All well and good. 

In June I was referred to that hospital to the dermatology clinic to try to get me on the new, fandagled medication as my GP is unable to put me on it. I was told there would be a wait of about 6-8 weeks before I'd get an appointment- ok, fine. 

I call up after 8 weeks to see if I had an appointment yet, or was still in the queue- and was told- goodness me, there is an appointment that had come free in 2 Saturdays time in the afternoon. Grand. So we went along to the hospital on the Saturday, having spent the last 2 weeks in increasing amounts of discomfort, to have my appointment.

Whereupon, I was told by the dermatologist "I don't have any letter about you, I don't have any of your bloot test results, it seems that you've been to a private dermatologist to get on methatrexate, and I don't know why you're here- if you're already on Methatrexate, I can't see why you need to be under two dermatologists to be on methatrexate". 

Gobsmacked would be a word I could use. Been waiting for 10 weeks from the referral- how on earth could she not have the referral letter, where on EARTH did the idea that I'd been to see a private dermatologist come from? and how could she not see my blood results? They'd been processed in THIS actual hospital! 

I did a very good job of controlling my temper, and, well, the upshot of it was that nothing happened and I was utterly utterly livid. She kept saying I had to "fail treatment" in order to be put onto the next medication, and when I asked what *that* meant- it was "use methatrexate for a year without improvement"... But- I've DONE that. Apparently not according to her records- so she booked me in for intial blood tests and a chest x-ray to get a "baseline"- which seemed kind of odd, considering I have at least a years worth of blood tests to show baseline and bloods on methatrexate.

Later that week I had an appointment with my GP, who not only showed me the referral letter, but also printed a copy out for me..... 

So- I go home and phone the dermatology secratery- of course you can't talk to an actual doctor- and asked about what had happened. The secratary seemed confused, saying that *she* could see my blood results on the system. What? Ok- how about the referral letter? No- apparently not. So I scanned and emailed the referral letter to her to attach to my profile- why and how it isn't there, I have NO idea. I then called about a week later to make sure it had actually been attached. Apparently it has. 

Great, next step- x-ray and blood tests. I go to the hospital (the same hospital, mind, that has been testing and reporting on my blood for the last year, that I have been getting on my NHS app), have my x-ray and full bloods done. Brilliant, all well and good. I wait a few days to be told about the results. Nothing. No email, no call, no message. Ok- check on my app- nothing. It's like they haven't been done. Ah man- I'd better check with the dermatology secratery - and leave a message. 

I get a call back the next day- oh, yes, my bloods and x-ray have indeed been done. Yes, they are on the system. 

So why can't I see them?

Sorry?!

Why can't I see them? I'd like to be able to compare them with the rest of the Blood tests I've had for the last year. 

Oh- no-one has ever asked that before. Um. You'll have to get your GP to ask us for them.

Again. Gobsmacked. All this information is linked to my NHS number. It's not like it changes from place to place. The information is relating to my health. If I wait another 8 weeks to see a dermatologist, that information is going to be out of date by- oh- 8 weeks. It would be really interesting to know what is going on with my actual health. Oh- and if my GP requests the results, it has to be by letter- which was the way the referral got sent- yes, the one that the dermatologist doesn't seem to have. 

So here we are in October. I've been waiting since June to see someone/anyone who has any idea about who I am, and has the ability to help put me on a new medication. It's SO hard to actually get hold of anyone. I didn't even know the doctors name that I eventually got to talk to. There is no-one to call, it all seems like a massive, faceless monolith, designed to make it as hard as possible to get any information about your health as possible. 

I *know* people in the NHS are working as hard as they can, but this disconnect, terrible communication, seeming inability to care about patients and complete lack of continuity of care makes it all seem like no-one really has a clue about what is going on anywhere. 

Yes, I'm still waiting to see someone. No, I still can't see my blood results. Yes, this has a massive effect on how I talk to and communicate with my patients as a physio- there are small blessings in everything.

HBMR leg 2 2023

 Never done leg 2 before. So it was a good thing that Stefan and I headed out a few weeks ago to give it a bit of a recce. I've run bits of it, but not as a full route, and certainly not in anger, and although it was a bit claggy when we looked it over, it was even worse on the day of the race, so we were very happy indeed to have some kind of knowledge of the ground. 

The fastest a Glossopdale team had done this leg in the past (or at least, the past that is recorded on SI entries) was 1:17:12- which was Chris Jackson and Jamie Helmer. That's a pretty stiff time by anyone's books. The idea was to try and beat it, but with no more cunning tactic than "run as hard as we can and see what happens at the end".

The main thing you need to know about leg 2 is that there is nothing other than up for about the first half of the leg. The first part of that is agonisingly runnable, and if there is something Stefan is excellent at, it is going off at the beginning of a race, hard, and then bashing up a climb at some ridiculous speed. It was all I could do to hold onto his coat-tails, and there were a few sections where I was gasping at him to slow down a little. 

Once off the first runnable bit and onto the walkable climb, I managaed to catch my breath a little before, inevitably, it becomes runnable again. By this time we'd overtaken about 4 teams, and had been overtaken by just one- HBT- who we were not really to see again for the rest of the race. Up onto High street, we picked off another 2 teams as the clag started to swirl around us, and we bolted off down the line towards the main path, (hopefully) with the mist swallowing us up. 

Fast running down and along, and then the line that cuts under Thornthwaite crag- up and over and a momentary.... hang on a sec- until the wall hove into view, and the ridiculous steep descent took us down. (I wish there were some shoes that were decent enough to enable you to run down that kind of thing- and STILL have decent grip on rock. They just don't seem to exist nowadays). 

Across Thresthwaite Mouth and up the steep, seeping rocks up to the top. Fully clagged in now, with no-one in sight in front or behind, we forged on up the hill to the wall line again. I very nearly made a very silly mistake with the nav prior to the next checkpoint. Fatigue was getting to me, and Stefan shouted me back in good time, and led the correct way with me running behind going "doh!". 

As we hit the check by the ponds there were a couple of shadowy running figures disappearing into the mist... the next team in front of us. Downhill for a fair old way now, but easy running, so most teams will be nailing it here. Not a lot of chance to catch up with many- but the sting in the tail is still to come. 

Chasing all the way down, despite seeing the pair disappear into the mist, there was no-one around until we reached the final sting climb along St.Ravens edge. We overtook another team, then saw Daz F and overtook him as well, and as we fought our way to the final checkpoint at the cairn a whole load of teams came into view as they were about to start the final descent. 

To the dibber, and then a hair-raising jumpy/runny descent past people dithering on rocks. The VJ xtrms stuck like limpets to the rock- but were, as standard, a bit on the slippy side on wet grass. The clag was still down, it was raining and we were pelting down the hill trying to overtake as many teams as possible before the changeover. Through the gates- and another team, and then along the side of the road, cross, dib and pass the dibber to Immy and Sarah who shot off up Red Screes. 

Kirkstone car park was a morass of fellrunners, either heaving with exertion from the previous leg, or waiting, shivering for their runners to come in. Mark D was there with coats for us, and a lift down should we need one. 

The important thing, was what time? what time? 1:16:09. And having had a look at the SIresults page, it seems we were 16th fastest on the leg, which is pretty decent by my reckoning. 

As is ever the case. I think I need to be faster up hills!

And as a postscript- the team did amazingly. We came 2nd Mixed team. Absolutely amazing!

Tan Hill 200 Audax

 Audaxing. A quintessentially English undertaking? Not exactly, as the origins are very much European- Audax UK have a very interesting page on the history of audax. However, there seems to be something very British about turning up to a community centre in a random town with 25 other enthusiastic individuals from all walks of life, all with at least one thing in common. A bike. 

You pay a bloke 6 quid or so, get a brevet card and have a cup of coffee, or a small breakfast- muesli, bread/toast etc. are laid on. At about 8:30, someone says "go" to the people gathered at the door of the community centre, and the people in the carpark realise the event is on as those who were in the apparent right place sail past shouting "we're off"! 

You then spend the better part of the day cycling 200km via a small number of places/ coffee shops etc. that can provide either a stamp or a till receipt to prove you've been there at a certain time- and get back to the community centre in dribs and drabs, get a cuppa, and maybe some soup or baked beans as a reward for your effort before heading back home. 

No fanfare. No numbers. No inflatable arches to ride through. Just a small, quiet group of people dedicated to long days out and absurd distances covered on two-wheels. 

It's brilliant. 

This is my first Audax and it wasn't an easy one. At 200k it is one of the shorter ones (apparently there was a serious discussion at one point as to whether 100 and 200k audaxes should have a different name- as they weren't *really* long enough to be considered hard enough to be a proper audax). However, with 4000m of ascent, this promised to be an interesting day out. Starting in Burnley, it wove North over a series of lumps to Tan Hill pub, and then back down through Kettlewell etc. back to Burnley. The climb was very front loaded, with the final BIG climb being out of Hawes on the way home. There was, though a serious SW wind blowing, which although potentially helpful to begin with, might cause some fun as a headwind on the way back. 

Dan suggested the idea of doing this one, and so I stuck my toe in the Audax pond. We headed up early doors on Sunday, registered and stood around watching the others ready their bikes as well. As mentioned, people seemed to come from all walks of life, and had differing levels of seriousness about how much food/water/luggage they might be needing over the next few hours. I went for a LOT of food, figuring that it would be better to be overladen with fuel than not. 

Dan and I- ready for the off.

At 8:30... well, 8:29- we were standing in the carpark with about 7/8 of the field as the other 1/8 sailed past shouting "well, come on then!"- and it was a scramble onto the bikes, make sure you have your sunglasses, and head out onto the roads. 

I recognised a fair few of the roads as we rode out through Sabden and over Nick o Pendle and out into the Trough of Bowland- having done a fair bit of hill climbing on the 100 climbs Sportive a couple of years ago. The first 30k flew past as I was trying to get used to riding in a group. Generally I'm on my own and getting used to seeing hand signals for things- and repeating them in good time for the benefit of those behind me- doesn't come naturally. 

The first brevet stop at Slaidburne was a fairly slow affair, as a few bikers who had overtaken us a short time prior had set about ordering a fairly long and convoluted breakfast. As we were amongst the first people there, the brevet stamp hadn't been located, and we spent a lot longer than was strictly necessary waiting for a stamp in our cards. (one person just couldn't be arsed and just set off without the stamp. It being my first audax, I wanted to do it kind of right). 

Dan and I set off onward north, and over the next few hills. Luckily the South Westerly wind was generally a kind assistance up the hills. Down into Bentham, and then back up and over into Ingleton- about 50k in with the potential for a coffee stop. I felt pretty decent at that point, knowing that the next place to stop would be Hawes which has a plethora of places to stop for refreshment, and so we pressed on. Not only does Hawes have a decent amount of shops, but it also had the benefit of being just before the last 2 big hills before Tan Hill- the mid point of the ride, so a short stop there would probably be useful. 

You've gotta stop at Ribblehead viaduct for a piccie- right?

 

As it was, on the way up to Ribblehead viaduct on the B6255, my drive chain started squeaking like there was a canary in it. The rainshower that we had endured on the climb prior to Bentham had evidently washed off all the Dry Lube that had be put on it recently. It only got worse as I approached Hawes and I had visions of knocking on doors of likely looking houses, or campervans with bike on them to ask if I might borrow some chain oil. After coasting down into Hawes, I hurridly googled "Bike shop Near Me", and lo and behold, the rather fantastic Stage 1 cycles was not only there, but was OPEN on a sunday morning. I'm unsure if he would have just given me a squirt of random chain oil, but figured as it was so useful that he was there and open, I'd spend some cash, and got a new tube of All weather chain lube. Oh- the happiness of a drive chain that doesn't sound like it's going to fall apart on you! Wonderful!

Hallelujah! Chain lube!

By the time I'd sorted out the bike, Dan had got into Hawes and had a brew, so we set off towards Tan hill together- up over Buttertubs, which isn't all that bad from the South, and then the insane 25% switchbacks on the road up to Tan Hill pub. I was within sight of the pub as the first couple of riders were on their way back down, and as I got there, there was obviously something of a lunch rush. A huge queue of people for the bar- nearly out of the door... ah well, nothing to do but to wait. So I patiently waited in line, bought a coke, and by the time I'd finished, Dan was arriving, along with a cloud burst. I grabbed my coat, and my sandwiches and we stood in the porch of the pub recovering, watching the rain thrash across the countryside and refuelling.

I woz there- yes I woz.

 

I can't say that the weather got any better as we stood there. At times it got worse and I was having concerns that I didn't have enough kit- especially gloves. It's August, I'm wearing 3 layers and wishing I had more! Eventually after a much longer time than I should have waited, we head off down the hill into the wind and rain. Waterproof on, hood up, buff on- 2 more significant climbs to go before the long, undulations of the ride home- all into a headwind. 

It wasn't raining before Dan turned up.

We passed the majority of the rest of the field as we came down into Keld, and then faced the rather steeper side of Buttertubs. In all honesty, it wasn't as bad as expected, though the headwind was still there. Down into Hawes, and considering the next ascent was going to take sometime, I kept the waterproof on. We were going back up high, and the chance of a shower was considerable. By this time I'd lost Dan, so I just started up Fleetwith Moss and chugged my way up it. Into a headwind. 

It's horrible. I mean, the last time I did it, I was bikepacking and it was at the beginning of my final day and it was horrible then. At 120k in, it's really really horrible. Unforgiving and brutal. There were times when I was sure I might have to get off- but it never came to that. Nonetheless, the climb was very very slow, and the main thought was "this is the last big one". 

Finally over the top, I thought I took sight of a Short Eared Owl across the fields just before the descent started- the long descent into (eventually) Kettlewell. Somewhat ironically I was held up by an Audi for the vast majority of the descent, but at least I didn't try shouting/beeping/close passing at any point. As it was downhill all the way into Wharfedale, the speed was fairly decent (Audis not withstanding), and the average speed stayed pretty high. At Kettlewell I made a short stop to fill up waterbottles at a pub and bought a coke, took off my waterproof, and started out just as another audaxer came past. 

We shared the load of headwind for a while, until she fell behind on one of the longer climbs. It was not all that far to Gargrave now, and I wended my way on for a while, until from behind came a pair of audaxers who I assumed were way, way ahead of me- having left Tan Hill about 20 mins before me. It turns out they had stopped elsewhere as well, and so we made good time as a triple over toward Gargrave, arriving in the village about 2 mins after the teashop closed- so we would have to get a receipt from Co-op as proof we had been there instead. 

From Gargrave, only 35k remained and I was feeling pretty good. Well- not half dead. We continued on as a three over a variety of undulations and along b-roads. My legs kind of gave out on the hill out of Barnoldswick, but they were gents and waited for me. 

On the run back into Burnley we picked up a fellow audaxer who had been on their own for 50k or so, and we belted along the A-road as a 4, and dropped into Burnley soon afterward, finishing up and around a variety of corners to finish in about 9 and a half hours. 

The rig at the end.

There were tins of beans and spaghetti hoops and soup ready for those who wanted them- I just sat down with the small remainder of the food that I'd taken with me, and a very well earned cup of tea. Dan came in about 30 mins later and we spent time sitting there looking shellshocked before getting up, getting changed and heading off home. 

What a day. Thanks so much to Andy for organising such a great day. (apparently he is a serial organiser of this kind of thing)- and I trust that the other 25 or so riders got home in a decent enough time to allow him to get home for a realistic time. 

First Audax- yes. But probably not the last.

Tadpole round 2023 - 50b450

 Here we are in August and only a couple of weeks before the time limit of Lynnes 50b450. Last year, one of the things she wrote on the list was "Tadpole round"- which is a short swim/run course in the Lake district. Short, it may be, but it is pretty daunting if it is something you haven't done before. It is even more daunting if you're going to be doing it breaststroke, not freestyle. There is a 450m leg and a 400m leg in consecutive bodies of water- and if you do it fast, you don't have to worry about it too much, but there is only so much speed that you can do doing breaststroke. 

The idea was not to go breaking any records, the idea was to get around in one piece. This has been put off for a good few months as the water would have been a fair bit chillier a few months ago. Maybe June would have been a good time, but there was *quite* a bit going on in June. (the 15 trigs was certainly big on the mind at that time). July was a washout, and so here we are with not a lot of time left. 

The forecast looked pretty good on the Friday, though there was a freshening wind from the North West. Crummock has its longest fetch from the NW, so any strong wind is going to create some interesting "washing machine" like conditions. Not really what Lynne wanted. However, the forecast for the morning looked pretty good. Generally calm, no rain, and not cold. Perfect. 

So up at 4 (why is it that everything I've been involved in for these challenges has involved being up/awake at 4am?!) and off up to the Lakes. A decent drive got us there for just about 7:30am. Although techincally you're meant to start the challenge from the shores of Crummock water and swim first, we parked in the main carpark in Buttermere and started there. A quick change and check we had all the stuff, and off we went. It was a little chilly to begin with- it being still pretty early, but we warmed up a little on the first climb up and over the hill (looking up to Whiteless Pike in the distance) and down towards Crummock water. There was a slight North Westerly, but nothing that was causing too much more than ripples on the water. 

A slight nav error on my part (on the official map, the start/finish has a red triangle on it... so there was me looking for a YHA... ) anyhow- we worked out that there wasn't going to be one, and went back the 300 metres back to where you get in at Crummock, and got fully changed into wetsuits. No, this was not going to be a record setting journey. (If I'd have thought about it, I'd have brought a flask of coffee as well!). 

The swim across Crummock water was at a leisurely pace- but was quite a challenge for us. Keeping pace was ok, but when you aren't swim-fit, and doing a stroke that is different to normal, 20 mins in open water with a towfloat is still quite a long time. Sighting was very easy, not doing freestyle, but in the middle of the water there was a bit of chop which didn't make our lives any easier. 

However, after what seemed a very long time, we were within touching distance of the other side, and I forged on ahead to take some photos of Lynne getting out of the water. Once there, a full change again, and then off we went down the western side of Crummock. The going isn't particularly nice underfoot to begin with. You can walk it, but if you're running it and not in "fell mode" then it's quite possible to put your foot wrong fairly easily. Once down towards Buttermere the trail becomes a lot easier, and the surface becomes very trail like, speeding you on your way. 

The get in point on Buttermere is a fair way down to the south, nearly at the other end, actually, and we shared the changing point with a few sheep. 

Putting on a wet wetsuit is not particularly fun, but it is more fun than attempting to swim 400metres in just a swimsuit. It took rather longer to put it on here than at the shore of Crummock, but eventually I was ready. The sighting across Buttermere is better than on Crummock water, mainly because it doesn't look as far or as daunting. I'm sure the fast people do the crossing in just a few minutes, but again, going slow, doing breaststroke, you're in the water for a lot longer- which means colder limbs, and more fatigue as you go on. 

Still, the sun was out, it was a beauiful day, and we could see the other side slowly getting larger as we swam towards it. The perspective on this side is also better, because as you swim, you can see the house on the side slowly disappear into the trees as you get closer, giving a real sense that you ARE indeed getting there. 

We changed on the field just out of the water, and set off on the final leg of the run, heading North on the eastern edge of Buttermere. We came back to the car at just a whisker under 3 hours, a lovely morning out, a decent amount of exercise done, another thing crossed off Lynnes list, and ready for a pie in the farm shop. 

What a lovely day out.

Cracken Edge Fell Race 2023

 Two races in as many weeks? Goodness, you'd almost think I was getting to enjoy them again. No, I can assure, I am not getting addicted, and there will not be a proliferation of race related blogs. The Cracken Edge Race is an important fixture in the calendar as it is run by Kinder Mountain Rescue- and there is the honour of the Buzz Lightyear trophy at stake. The fastest Mountain rescue team (or at least, their first 3 runners) gets the trophy. Unfortunately I was injured last year (calf strain/tear from over enthusiasm and "training error"), but others from Glossop MRT were there to fill in the gaps. 

This year Glossop MRT managed to field 10 runners (it would have been 11 had covid not reared it's ugly head again), which I think is a record turnout for us... indeed for any Mountain Rescue Team. Also included in that we had 3 ladies, which would have made a womens team as well, which was absolutely amazing. 

The route was the same as ever- very runnable (and I tried to make sure I ran as much of it as possible this time around), but very wet underfoot. It has been raining a lot recently- and it was raining right up until we set off as well. Although the kit requirements were "take what you think is appropriate"- which a lot of people took to mean "no kit", I took a waterproof and a bumbag to put it in- partially as this wasn't going to be an absolute eyeballs out effort, and partially because I would probably want a coat at the end when hanging around. 

Knowing that my preparation for this race has not been optimal, mixing it with the fast lads at the front was not going to be an option. Ok- it was an option- but not an intelligent one. I can hold my own over a few hours, but on a short and fast course, no chance- so I started somewhat further back in the field. The initial uphill is always a killer, and quite a sorter, and going off full beans here would have certainly taken a lot more out of me than I'd have liked. 

Off we went, and I slowly picked my way through the field on the way up, passing Chris J, and eventually catching Paul Skuse on the road up to the mast. First climb out of the way, and the pace settled a little. Going much faster was not really possible, and looking at my HR after the race, it does seem like I don't really have that ability to push into that extra gear/speed without massively overdoing the exertion. So I pootled along at somewhere around 150-160bpm with other people around me sounding like they were dying- but not really able to push on much faster. 

For the first time in a few years I got to the stile and had to queue before getting over, which was a novelty- getting my breath back mid-race, and I made good on the road, passing Saul on the way to the next climb- which was very sogggy underfoot. On the way up here I started leapfrogging with a couple of Macc Harriers which would continue right to the very end. I never looked behind me, so couldn't tell you how close anyone else was. 

Along from New Allotments down to the road was fairly swift, and on the road we caught and passed a guy in Hokas. I managed to lead the way down to the stile, but was quite quickly caught and passed on the ascent up to the quarry, not only by the battling Macc Harriers, but also by the guy in Hoka's who was climbing like a demon. I managed to run the entire race up to the final 10 metre section to Big Stone (not sure if this did me any good at all, seeing as the others around me were switching between walking and running on the ascent- but it did my ego good), and I continued onward in the midst of the Macc guys, who overtook me on the flattish sections from New Allotments (in the other direction) out to the final(ish) descent. 

Still not really able to raise my heartrate all that much without blowing, I continued at my own pace, wondering why it wasn't raining and if it would have been better to leave my bumbag at the start, I came to the long downhill towards Phoside. Initially it is long and groovy, and pretty easy to run. Would I have gained much more distance in the past when I was better at descending? No idea really- but it seemed like I wasn't gaining much. Then the track peels right and becomes more technical, where I definitely gained some time, then it peels right again and goes down into the woods and is a lot muddier and slippier- first overtake on the way down to the single track between the gates- and now there is less than a kilometre to the end. 

The first Macc guy is behind me, and I don't think he'll really trouble me again- but the other one, and the Hoka guy are in front. I just need to keep in touch in the last couple of fields as the final dash down the field to the end is genuinely my favourite part of any race, anywhere. They pull out a couple of metres on me, but stumble through the last stile/gate which enables me to get to a decent distance to them- we round the final flags and hit the descent to the finish- there is a clear, trodden track with long swishy grass everywhere else, so I take that and let loose, instantly overtaking the other 2 and leaving them for (somewhat damp) dust. 

Maybe I was in the top 20? I don't really know, and won't until the results are out. However, the jacket that I packed and carried all the way around came in very useful as I wandered back up the course taking photos of the rest of the team as they passed me on the way to the finish, and encouraged everyone else in the race. 

We did indeed retain the Buzzlightyear trophy, and good fun was had by all- I have to put out a special mention to all those in Glossop MRT who would not, under normal circumstances have entertained the idea of running around Cracken Edge of an evening. Well done- damn fine effort. 

Scarborough to Glossop cycle tour

 The idea was to catch a train to Scarborough and then take a couple of days to ride home, most likely staying overnight in York. 100k each day. Various things such as train times/logistics/strikes... well, actually, mainly the train logistics- meant that a slightly different plan had to be planned. Eventually something was cobbled together, and, to be honest it was Catherines rather excellent knowledge of the railway system, and especially the way in which you can actually get bikes on trains etc. that enabled this to happen. 

The plan was simple. Bike to Stalybridge, train to Scarborough, then bike to Whitby- staying over there for the night. Bike ride to Toms parents house near York, overnight there, and then cycle home. Job's a good un. 

The exciting thing about it all was the weather forecast. As ever, in the UK in July, you can't be guaranteed of anything, except that it might well be ANYTHING. Rain was kind of forecast, but it was a bit of a "maybe, maybe not". What was *definitely* forecast was wind. A westerly, and gaining in strength through the weekend up to a Force 5-6 on Sunday. Pretty much a block headwind all the way home. Great fun! 

Looking forward to the ride!

The route itself was made by Catherine, and was intended to take in as many cake and tea stops as possible, which is a most commendable ambition for a bike tour. The crux of the whole thing was getting on a train that would accommodate 4 bikes. Normally, the train from Manchester to Scarborough only has a small number of carriages, and so therefore only has 2 bike spaces. However, there are 2 trains a day that have twice as many carriages, and so therefore, twice as many bike spaces... a massive 4 bookable spaces! (Yes. the ability to transport bikes by train in this country is truely woeful. They say "not many people want to take bikes by train".... but it's a nightmare to book them onto a train, and even if you do, there are barely any spaces to do so. But I digress. 

One of these magic trains leaves Stalybridge at 5:50am. Which means leaving home to ride over the hill to Staly a fair bit beforehand. Which means getting up really quite early. However, we'd rather be early rather than late, so off we trotted, nice and early, making FULL use of Lynnes thermal bidon for a decent amount of coffee. All 4 of us joined together on the road just up and past the Waggon and Horses, and convoyed down to the station- the train was caught without a hitch, and the journey to the coast simply flew by. I was expecting to get at least a little sleep on the way, but was utterly surprised when the tannoy told us we were approaching the last stop. 

Classic early morning shot

First things first in a new town at 8am on a sunny morning- find some more coffee. We spent some time touring around Scarborough looking for likely places for coffee, and ended up back at the place at which we started. After a delightful second breakfast we set about working out how to get to the Cinder Track, and work our way north toward Whitby, where we were staying the night. 

Let's fund us some coffee

3 Wahoos and a phone just about managed to get us out of Scarborough and the next few hours were spent on a splendid ride along the Cinder track (cycle route 1) - which had some nice bits, some muddy bits and some bumpy bits (that Lynne really wasn't a fan of). The sun was out, the wind was not against us, and we made pretty decent time to Robin Hoods bay, where we decided to stop for a cake and another coffee. Nevermind that it's down a 30% hill- we'll deal with that when we want to come back up. So down we went along with 30 million other holiday makers, and managed to bag a table at a cafe near the sea.

Cinder Track

The tide was very very in, so Lynne and Catherine decided to postpone their swim until later, when we got in to Whiby. We steeled ourselves for the climb back out of the bay and attempted to weave through the hordes as we scrimped our way back up the hill to the Cinder Track.

 

Getting out of Robin Hood Bay

 Onwards and Northwards, we wound our way and in a relatively short time made our way into Whitby. We were a little early for the hotel to be ready, but they let us leave our bikes in a side room while we went out to explore the surroundings until the rooms were sorted. 

"Explore the surroundings" basically means "wander around and work out if you've been here before". Whitby, it would seem, is very reminicent of every seaside town I've ever been to that has a harbour, amusement arcade, candyfloss places, an RNLI museum and crowds of people trying to by fish and chips. Lynne and Catherine got their swim/being hit by waves thing done, while Tom and I stood by and made sure the Seagulls didn't nick our stuff. 

Whitby

The evening was taken up by more wanderings, up to the Abbey, around the town (again), fish and chips, and a walk out onto the breakwater- which is fairly impressive. Bed time came early as we'd been up since silly'o'clock and there is only so far that much coffee can take you. 

Whitby Abbey

Looking Off.

Day 2

A quick ride down the hill into town for a breakfast from the coffee shop that we made sure would be open in the morning. Whilst sitting there, routes were downloaded and synched into mapping units, and we were pretty much ready to go. The idea was to very much NOT go on the massive A64 out of Whitby, as it would be all kinds of horrible to do that on a bike. So the slightly more exciting/hard/challenging option of offroad was taken. (I could digress here into a bit of a rant about safe cycling provision in this country, but won't). 

Don't want to join the trucks on an A road? This is the other option

Anyhow, let's just say the ground under tyre was a little less than optimal, and our average speed was somewhat curtailed by it. It was a lovely route, and very well planned- heck, it was marvellous not to be on the A64 getting close passed by the various psychos in cars and trucks, but you'd think that if something says "bridleway" on it, you might be able to actually ride a damn bike down it... 

It *might* have been ok going downhill. Actually. No. It wouldn't. And people wonder why we don't always use bridleways.

 

It took a while until we managed to get to much more rideable territory, but once there, the miles steadily ticked by. Sometimes on road, sometimes off- and at one point, the excitement of riding downhill at speed rather got hold of Tom and Catherine, and off they shot- only to be rewarded by a rather impressive rear wheel blowout at speed.

THIS is more like a bridleway

 

The repair took a while- (I was rather confused as to why my pump wasn't pumping up the tube, and it turned out to have rather more holes in it that I realised, so there was no way it was going to get pumped up, no matter how good the pump). 

Standard puncture faff

We did indeed carry on, and lunch was had in a place that rather reminded me of Castleton. The cafe had the largest pieces of rocky road I've ever seen, but considering that there was going to be another cake stop in a bit, I decided to refrain. 

Some single track that Lynne *really* wasn't appreciating

Onward and into a bit of a headwind, we wove our way south and westish and it was all a bit of a blur really. The route took us to where we needed to be, and that place eventually ended up being a cafe with white chocolate cheesecake. Marvellous. From there, it was not a long distance to get to Tom's parents, which has an amazing garden, and very welcoming hosts. 

Across the moors.

Much food, tea, wandering around the marvellous garden, and a bit of bike maintainance was done. Lynne was a bit done in by the end of the day- this being her longest ride to date, so I did the gallant thing and tended to her bike for her, instead of asking "dyou think you might need to do anything to your bike this evening?". 

Again, sleep came early. 

Day 3. 

A strong coffee set us up for the day- the ground was damp, so it was evident that it had rained overnight. The clouds were scudding across the sky in a somewhat unhelpful direction, but it was sunny as we set off. Always a bonus. 

Today there was more promise of roads- not so much on exciting offroad adventuring. This was a day that was going to be over 100k, so again, Lynnes longest day on a bike ever (and by quite some margin), so what with the headwind, easier terrain under the tyres would probably help. As we left the delightful company of Tom's parents I took the lead and cycled into the wind at a steady pace. We managed somewhere in the region of 20kmph for the next decent while as roads and places and hedgerows passed us by. 

Coffee stop

A tea and coffee stop was had at an RSPB reserve, and once energy levels were restored to appropriate levels, we continued on into the wind. The weather stayed pretty decent, with only a couple of light showers occuring. Despite the promise of "mainly tarmac", there were a couple of areas of somewhat more interesting surfaces, including mud and standing water, but that in no way reduced the enjoyment of the journey. 

At one point a Red Kite flew alongside us, and decided it would dive in front of us to check out a tasty morsel by the side of the road, which was rather impressive, which took our minds off the headwind for a short while. The roads were flat and steady for the most part, bringing us into and through Wakefield where, after a bit of traffic dodging, we stopped for a very needed lunch stop at Pudneys park- a place I'm absolutely certain I've been before as that was where my Aunt and Uncle used to windsurf a lot, back in the day.

Refuelled and slightly rested, we gamely carried on, trying to ignore the profile for the rest of the trip, which, while not resembling quite a dinosaurs back, certainly had a certain "humpiness" about it. Through Yorkshire Sculpture park (well, around it, I suppose), and up and down across the roads to the south of Denby dale, we slowly started to see places and place names that were more familiar. Holme moss transmitter mast appeared on the horizon as we steadily worked our way westward. At some point, I took Lynnes pannier from her as she was starting to feel the effects of 3 days of cycling, extra weight, hills and a headwind. 

Yorkshire Sculpture park

As we got closer to home, the headwind seemed to intensify, (was it really coming from Glossop?!), but the number of hills was slowly coming down. We passed Woodhead mountain rescue base, which meant we were getting closer still- then the turning to Hade Edge, where we skirted down to Snailsden reservoir. A final pull up to the Woodhead pass, and then the downhill section to the Longdendale trail, where we hit 100k. 

Snailsden- nearly home

The end was in sight, and we cycled along the trail and up the hill to Devil's Elbow, before rounding the corner to see Glossop below us. Home. 

What a fabulous adventure with excellent company. As you would expect, there were a few dark moments thrown in there, with people experiencing lows at different times, but coffee, tea and sugar certainly helped us through. Although it would have been nice to do the original plan (especially if we'd have had THAT tailwind), this very much ticked the box. 

Thanks to Tom and Catherine for enjoying the trip with us,  and to Tom's parents for being such amazing hosts.