Ride (hc) - peak district

So, here I am, finally writing up something that happened last weekend...

The weather had certainly taken a turn for the worst up here - rain was forecast for the whole weekend, and, for once, it wasn't budging. Thanks to the persistence of the forecast, I was able to plan accordingly, and got myself and my bike down to Manchester, leaving me under humid, muggy but rainless skies with plenty of time to wonder how I can justify training expeditions like this once Fiona moves away.

Sunday cleared the skies with a fantastically warm puff of parched air from Spain, an event I was actually rather unprepared for as I headed for the hills with bare arms and legs. I considered several times stopping, but it seemed a terrible waste to buy an entire tube of sun block only to throw most of it away because I had insufficient pocket room.

It was clear, as I made my way up the rolling hill from Tintwistle with the wind firm behind me, that I wasn't the only thing parched; with the exception of Torside, which houses a sailing club, all the reservoirs in the Etherow Valley were looking too low to extract from. I swigged again from my bidon and took the turning for Holme pass.

The climb was a good start to the day, especially with a couple of wheels to catch. I couldn't quite get the leader before the crest, cursing that I had forgotten to use my Salbutamol inhaler that morning. As he stopped to wait for his mate, though, I began down the far side.

Wow, the peaks are steep.

As I've said before, I'm no demon on the descents - especially ones I haven't ridden before. Braking into the hairpins from the top, even with good visibility, was an exercise in precise judgement of traction and luck. For those not used to descending on a road bike, the basic compromise is that all of your weight wants to go onto the front wheel (not necessarily a bad thing) which means almost all of your braking wants to be done on the front wheel (if you want it done quickly), but you really want to avoid the front wheel washing out during turns. Hence the fundamental rule: get all your braking done before you turn in.

Easier said than done, especially on steep switchbacks.

After a breeze down the valley, I turned around at Honley to take the A616 into Sheffield, where heavy traffic on Ecclesall road made the long slog out a baking nightmare. Not a lot to be said about this portion of the journey, other than it wasn't as bad as it sounds. Just nothing special.

At Hatherage, it was time to stop to refill bottles and grab something to eat. That something to eat turned out to be about 200g of yogurt-covered peanuts - a decision I regretted later in the sweltering heat on the pass, my stomach having no fun whatsoever in extracting instantly usable energy from these dairyfied oil pellets.

So, speaking of the pass, then. Winnat's pass. Oh, yes. I'd heard of it, I'd clocked it on the map - I knew I had to try it. For about a kilometre, the average gradient must be somewhere around 20%. Yessir, this is the biggun.



It broke me.

No exaggeration, no hyperbole at all. My bike was fine. I wasn't. For the first time in years, I was forced to stop on a climb. I couldn't breathe, I felt nauseous, my legs were giving way and there were absolutely no gears left. I struggled up to just over half-way, not even having the spare capacity to yell and curse, then collapsed, panting, over the bars.

This was pain. Real pain. I could not do this pass. Not on a 34x25. I was beaten, by a road, and it hurt.

I wasn't going to walk.

No way I was going to walk.

Two minutes later, I stood up again. I false-started, then got going, for once my cleat just popping into the pedal without fuss. The grimace on my face would have scared small children and animals, but the two walking cyclists who I passed merely offered me a cheerful "keep going".

I did. I dread to think how many miles I put on that chain, stretching it up there, but I kept going. I got to the top. I had meant to take a photo, but my legs were on the verge and I knew I had to keep spinning.

Winnat's pass. My new nemesis.

Next time, it'll be a 34x28.

It took me a full 90 minutes to recover from the effort. The average speed of the second half of the ride, which came in at 160km (almost 180 including getting to and from Hyde) was down at 25kph. I have never been that thoroughly broken on the road before, but I'm proud to say that I kept going.

I really, really hope that effort was worth it.

Good trails!

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