The Lakeland Loop: Day Four - Buttermere to Eskdale

Day 4 of our Lakeland Loop trip was also my 46th birthday and the day we were destined to go over Black Sail Pass. The previous three days were catching up with me and I woke up tired or rather didn't wake up despite the fact that I was riding my bike. I was pretty much asleep as we tried our best to cycle the route that led between Buttermere and Crummock Water and then over the top to Mosedale Beck but it seemed an impossible task. The route had turned into some sort of rocky hell hole that then digressed further into intermittent boggyness and finally impossible upwards gradients. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to be at least three quarters asleep. Eventually we got a rapid descent down into Ennerdale for all our hard work and found ourselves on a pathway with high walls on either side. This became rather awkward when a fallen tree totally obstructed the path but with a bit of manoeuvring we managed to squeeze underneath it although Mark was abruptly reminded that he still had a rucksack attached when he couldn't quite fit on his first attempt.

We were under the impression that there would be 'tea and buns' at Bowness but there was not so much as a crumb to be had and it was the same story at Ennerdale yha and Black Sail yha. We should have booked a packed lunch to bring with us from Buttermere yha but we hadn't ... The most difficult aspect of the fire roads through Ennerdale Forest turned out to be a man and his dog. The dog walker obviously knew the score because he did his best to put as much distance as he could between us and his dog. Mark, on the other hand, was oblivious to the possibility of attack pretty much until the moment the dog nipped him quickly on the ankle. The dog was lucky as clip ins prevented a swift retaliation and Mark was still cursing the dog when we arrived at Black Sail Hut from where we could see the towering mountain pass for which we were destined on the other side of the valley. 

It was at this stage in the proceedings that I finally woke up. As usual Mark was leading the way over what is 'the Loop's second official carry'; feeling a tad sorry for me he came back to offer me a hand with my bike. This kick started me into action as there was no way I was going to forego the pleasure of claiming I had done the Loop ALL by myself. I would get myself and my bike over every inch of said route if it took me forever ... it probably seemed like forever to Mark as he was forced to watch me creep ever higher up the pass. To cap it all there appeared to be a group of older gentlemen watching our antics from the comfort of Black Sail Hut. I would loved to have heard their comment  'eh, look at that fellow letting that poor woman struggle on up there without so much as lending a hand'. It cheered me up no end as I considered such imaginary conversations far below.

The good mood lasted to the col but carrying your bike downhill just doesn't seem right and the initial descent was so difficult neither of us could hold our nerve to ride it. We blamed the lack of food and extreme exertion for our shakiness but I think we might have been kidding ourselves. However, once the descent became slightly less radical it was pure delight as we zigged and zagged for all we were worth right into Wasdale Head Inn and two of the largest bar meals that money could buy. 

After gorging ourselves to bursting point it was onwards and upwards for the third time that day and a blur of wet, grassy, boggy, unrideable surfaces - I think I might have been a touch mardy until we final skirted Burnmoor Tarn. Then we had the pleasure of a wonderful techy descent all the way down into Boot and our bed for the night at Eskdale yha. Mad as it sounds I think I need to do this day again when I'm not quite so knackered before I start!

C2C Second Time Round: Whitehaven to Tynemouth

Every once in a while its natural to get the urge to do something a bit different and my mate Carol decided that the C2C was the challenge for her which is how I came to do the C2C for a second time in 2010 ... she persuaded me ... I persuaded my sister ... and then despite it being 'biking for girls' we all persuaded our other halves. A biking holiday would be a great laugh I said - Carol took exception to the use of the noun 'holiday' given the level of mental and physical torture she was anticipating but it was all for a good cause. She was raising money for the National Autistic Society and had already advertised the fact that she was doing the Whitehaven to Tynemouth route when we realised that entailed a longer and somewhat more strenuous start to the trip. There was much cursing before hand but as we sat feeding our faces in Siskin's cafe at the top of Whinlatter Pass it was agreed by one and all that the scenery we had just passed through was more than worth the extra effort. Definitely the best place to start from so far!

The route from Keswick to Penrith was familiar from last time and we were blessed with a sunny rain free day which was pretty exceptional given the rain and wind that we'd had all week. These may seem like inane comments but when you've cycled in the latter you are very grateful for the former and we arrived at our B&B with plenty of time for a good soak in the bath before wandering down to The George Hotel for food. It had been a 5am start and a 54 mile route over terrain somewhat hillier than that found in Rutland where Carol normally does her biking - she could barely keep her eyes open and eat at the same time. There was just time to purchase painkillers and snacks for the next days riding before sleep claimed us all.

While four of us headed out of Penrith on Saturday morning, the other two made a detour to the local bike shop to pick up some bar ends. It wasn't until we had completed the first major climb of the day and made it to the warmth of Hartside Cafe that we all regrouped for lunch. Everyone was elated with the climb, no one more so that my hubby who appeared to have a waterfall of sweat cascading down his face as he bounced through the doors of the cafe claiming he'd 'just taken it steady' up the hill. Obviously!!

I had been concerned about the cycle from Penrith to our bed for the night just outside of Rookhope. There were some serious hills to be conquered and in truth you were either inching your way painfully up a monster climb or burning brakes on the next descent - there was no middle ground. I need not have been worried. Carol's satisfied countenance appeared over the top of every climb, 'amazing' she would pant before pedalling on. Red legs meant she was on the way up and blue legs signalled a descent in progress. 

The long, winding descent from Hartside down into Leadgate is fabulous payback for all the hard work done but then comes the climb out of Garigill for me the most gruelling of the four climbs of the day. Last time round we'd broken this climb up with some well earned rests but there was no such luxury this time much to Fee's consternation. Still she had enough breath left to articulate her feelings over this minor oversight so we figured she couldn't have really needed the rests. Must be getting fitter! Next it was the vertical descent into Nenthead. Steve had brought the kitchen sink with him and so aided by gravity and a kamikazi mentality he went for it clocking 40 mph plus before rounding the final corner of the descent to find a fast approaching T junction in his view. There was a distinct smell of smoke and burning brakes when the rest of us arrived at a more life preserving pace sensible moments later. 

From Nenthead we pressed upwards again to Black Hill, the highest point of the route and into Northumberland before swooping down to Allenheads and finally being allowed a hot drink at the cafe. Then it was yet another ascent over the top this time into the County of Durham and a glorious sight - the road winding downhill as far as the eye could see. We could almost taste the finish line for the day and at least this time round it would come as no surprise that the B&B was at the top of yet one more hill! 

Day three and we were all still alive and kicking. There was just that wee hill out of Stanhope and it would be down hill all the way to the sea. Crawleyside Bank was not going to defeat us no matter how long, how steep or how cruel it was. One by one we pedalled our way up and on to Parkhead cafe where it was hot chocolate with marshmallows to celebrate. Mark J had cycled every last one of the climbs despite biking not really being his sport and a rather ancient stead - another convert?! 

After that we were on a roll, literally, the Waskerley Way flew by and then on the edge of Consett we turned left and headed towards Rowlands Gill and Tynemouth. It was easy cycling compared with the day before but still scenic as the old railway line wended its way through peaceful woodlands. There was the occasional bridge or viaduct to bring a frisson of excitement as we looked down on tree tops and contemplated not jumping. The threatened rain never materialised until we were pedalling through the centre of Newcastle and we dived into a Witherspoons Pub for our last meal together. By the time we emerged for the final ten miles it was sunshine as usual. We were so intent on finishing that we were caught by surprise by the American cyclist tucked in close (on the wrong side of the road) as we all converged on yet one more corner. A bit of a pile up ensued as Mark L went head to head with the poor man and I slammed into the back of them both. Luckily it was only cuts and grazes and the smell of the sea soon distracted us. What a fantastic three days, not only great cycling but great company and memories that will last long afterwards. Thank you Carol for giving us all such a good excuse to get together - when can we do it again?

The Lakeland Loop: Day Three - Bassenthwaite to Buttermere

Day three dawned and we left the civilisation of our  Lakeside Country Guest House for another day of needless toil. As if to emphases this point, as we headed towards Braithwaite, we managed forest detours via Wythop Mill and Whinlatter just for the hell of it, or so it seemed. Still there was a whizzy little descent through Wythop Woods that I'd missed on my C2C route earlier in the year and the bike shop and cafe at Whinlatter Visitor Centre both came in useful. Then we were flying down Whinlatter pass avoiding eye contact with those poor souls creeping past in the upward direction.

The floods earlier in the year had taken out a vital bridge in Newlands Valley and the road was besieged with signs alerting us to this fact but we were not keen on any further detours so we manhandled our bikes across both river and new flood defences before wending our way up onto the Cat Bells bridleway. The sun shone and the scenery sparkled as we paralleled Derwent Water just far enough away to maintain our serenity. Then as the bridleway descended into a rocky avenue lined with stone walls the mind became more focused on the loose surface and plentiful drop offs. Confidence blossomed and I over estimated just how far the forks could travel before bottoming out and dumping me unceremonishly over the bars in front of a group of elderly walkers. Oops!

As we free wheeled into Grange it seemed to me that a ice cream was called for but my suggestion was met with a grumpy response. I pointed out that this was suppose to be a holiday and that a woman can be pushed too far - I didn't really know what was ahead of me otherwise I might have had two!! The road up past Ashness Bridge was steep and winding and the sun was merciless as I slowly hauled my sweaty body past more sedate tourists; 'are you mad or are you sick' asked one cheerful group ... But it was worth it, Surprise View provided a stunning yet secluded vista of Derwent Water and was the perfect resting spot before continuing onwards. We exited the woods above Surprise View to see, what appeared to me, some new and undiscovered valley reminiscent of the 'hidden valley' of childhood films laid out before us. A truly magical place which only improved with our arrival at Watendlath cafe tucked away at the very end of the unwinding tarmac.  'Mr Smith I can confirm you were correct in your assessment of the flapjack!'

Refreshed from large quantities of tea and flapjack we continued off road over Grange Fell and then made the most of the hairy descent to Rosthwaite before killing a few more gentle miles to Seatoller. Anticipation was building as I knew Honistor pass was looming near and all that that entailed. I didn't know if my determination to ride the pass would really see me to the top, the gradient was punishing in places and endless, endless, endless. I tried desperately to distract myself from the torturous ascent, the heat, the lack of respite but it was the bare fact that pushing up wouldn't actually be any easier that kept me going. And then suddenly Mark was there taking photos and cheering and I realised that this was as far as the road went and that I'd done it - oh yeah! The descent was awesome. It started cool, in the shade of the fells and windy; eerily different from the ascent as if marking a transition. The road surface was rough and uneven like the tarmac had set in watery waves and then it unfolded into glorious, dazzling light, a carpet of lakeland greenery scattered through the dizzy descent ending with trees and rhododendrons and a picturesque youth hostel complete with sunny veranda. Obviously I tried out the veranda while Mark found a home for the bikes. Day three done and dusted.

The Lakeland Loop: Day Two - Patterdale to Bassenthwaite

Day two of the Lakeland Loop was easy peasy in comparison to the first day despite the route card clocking it at only three miles less. Armed with this knowledge and having survived the previous day all was good in my world as we skirted Ulswater and then headed upwards on tarmac that was already hot and sticky. It was still early but as soon as the gradient steepened I could feel beads of sweat popping out of pores and trickling off my face, it was going to be another scorcher. A fat ginger cat hugged the narrow band of shadow on the stonewalled road opposite me, seeking out the shade and ignoring the strangers on bikes toiling upwards in the sunshine. A road cyclist eased past me as if I was stationary his skinny tyres making light work of the climb up through Dockray. I felt amazingly self satisfied he would probably be done and dusted in a couple of hours while we had a gorgeous five days more of biking. 

The first five miles of tarmac were followed by the Old Coach Road and five miles of fast, fun-filled track and fabulous views. The speed and eekiness of the route required full concentration and yet the scenery was calling out to be appreciated what a wonderful dilemma! Before we knew it the magic was over and we were back on the tarmac with another big climb up through Threkeld to Blencathra National Park Centre and lunch or so we had thought but there was not a crumb to be had at the Centre. A quick look at the map confirmed my worst fears that there would be nowhere to eat until we'd virtually reached our destination for the day. I could feel my sense of humour was about to fail big time when Mark whipped out his fancy phone, located a pub in Threkeld and booked us a table ... yes we did have to retrace our steps down one mile of very steep hillside but there would be food at the end. The Horse and Farrier Inn did us proud and we well and truly indulged ourselves before tackling the climb back up past the Centre and onto a bridleway which took us up to the remote Skiddaw House YHA. Once again the scenery was all encompassing without a car, road or other building in sight. Having eaten our fill earlier we were now surrounded by food for the soul

From the YHA there were only a couple of short ups before we were into crazy descent territory with a  finish alongside Whitewater Dash Waterfall. The route spiralled downwards persuading us to risk ever increasing speeds in the pursuit of that perfect ride; mind and body calculating the angle, the line, feeling the route unwind until it was done and we could only look back with wide grins and deep breathing at the descent newly completed.

   

Once through the final gate we were reluctant to return to the tarmac and so opted for a bridleway through fields, which were as hard as nails and equally uncomfortable. Finally we succumbed to the road wending across to Bassenthwaite and the Lakeside Country Guest House our B&B for the night. Tea and biscuits were served on the terrace which was very civilised but we were in need of further sustenance and for the second time in a day had to retrace our steps to find food, this time at the Castle Inn back round the other side of the Lake.

Girls on Tour: Bilsdale and back the hard way

It has become something of a tradition that once a year a few of us girls cancel all other commitments and take off for a couple of days of mountain biking heaven - or should that be hell? One weekend in July was the agreed date and at 8.30am three of us were due to meet at Danby Village Hall before heading up Fryup Dale to pick up another three intrepid would be mountain bikers. As usual I was running late and as I blasted out of Park Wood full of anticipation for the forthcoming weekend I couldn't resist practising a jump or two. Splat! I was to rue that moment of silliness the whole weekend long.

Last year we left Fryup Head via the Waterfall so this year we needed a new exit point and plumbed for Raven Hill, surely it would be less extreme? No, the bridleway seemed to become less and less distinct as the gradient increased and the bracken surrounded us on all sides; the route planner was generally abused and it was agreed that next year we were under no circumstances setting off via Fryup! Still as usual the views were fabulous and we felt like intrepid adventurers exploring the great unknown despite being only a few miles from home.

We briefly found tarmac in the form of New Way Road before heading back along the Trough House bridleway. The plan was to turn off onto the George Gap Causeway in due course but this was easier said than done. On our first attempt certain members of the party were so caught up in showing a group of 'fellow' mountain bikers just how this section of the route should be ridden, that we overshot our turning. Our second attempt proved even less successful and a good hour of pushing through heather and bracken ensued while we tried to find said Causeway. We celebrated briefly on finding what appeared to be a motorway carving up the moors but after a gleeful few miles downhill realised that we had stumbled across the Lyke Wake Walk which was taking us rapidly in the wrong direction. There was nothing for it but to bike back the way we had come, finally finding the causeway as it intersected with our motorway. By this time we really needed to get some miles under our belts if we were to reach our beds in daylight so we took the highway back to the road and then put the pedal down until we reached the Lion Inn on Blakey Ridge and a well overdue lunch.

After plenty of good food and painkillers, my knee was not impressed with being used as a braking device first thing, we jumped onto a very straight forward bridleway that was once an old railway line. This meant we could make good time across the moors to Bloworth Crossing despite wind and a spot of rain. A fast, warming descent off the top through Bloworth Woods brought us out into Bransdale an isolated but beautiful, peaceful place which always makes me think I have finally found the Hidden Valley. Last time I cycled here the road had subsided in one place and was impassable by car; now repairs were in progress which meant that a whole section of road was barred by some ten foot high metal fencing. There was no way we were making a detour at this point in the day so we managed to 'open' and 'close' said fencing before tackling the climb back onto the moorside.

We were still keen to push on and make up for time lost earlier; we only needed to cross Bilsdale East Moor and drop down into the valley to find our resting place for the night. A quick look at the map showed that we could save ourselves a detour if we took the footpath across the moors to Black Holes were it joined up with the bridleway we needed for our descent. 

All went well until we rejoined the bridleway and then made, what in hindsight was obviously, a very wrong turn that led us to the head of Kyloe Cow Beck and a near impossible descent. The group was divided, should we go forward and risk further injuries or retrace our descent over paths which were sliding into a scarily steep ravine. At the end of the day when the choice is between possible free fall or yet more pushing the decision is always the same - down beats up every time! In the end the only casualty was my tyre when I didn't get the lift quite right over a certain barbed wire fence and a puncture was a small price to pay to make it back to a proper bridleway and then a final stretch of tarmac. We were booked into The Smithy a B&B at Laskill Grange and finished the day with the most fabulous evening meal up at the Grange. It was quite surreal - three courses of delectable food appeared and disappeared at the elegantly set table while we sipped wine and relaxed in the candle light despite our lack of footwear (extra weight) and slightly off key outfits chosen for optimum packing rather than final effect.

The return journey proved slightly less traumatic since it was decided a repeat of the previous day might result in no takers for any future events. We high tailed it back up the B1257 to Chop Gate and then took a left onto Raisdale Road until we reached Lord Stone Cafe at Carlton Bank. It was bit of a cheat to abuse the tarmac for quite so long but moral was definitely improved by clocking up a few miles and we were then in a position to have some fun whooping along some fun-tastic bridleway that eventually brought us out just above Clay Bank car park. This was followed by some more sedate tracks through Greenhow and Battersby Plantations round the base of the incline until we fetched up at Bank Foot. Again we grabbed a few cheap miles on the tarmac to bring us out at Kildale and Glebe Cottage tearooms where coffee cake is the answer to any questions you may have. 

Despite some very tired legs, an impressive collection of bruises and virtually no tyre left unmended  we couldn't finish without one last venture onto moorland single track. So it was up through Little Kildale Wood and a field or two before we hit some radical descent and a sweet stretch across Kildale Moor to exit above Hob Hole. Shortly afterwards we started to peel off as first Commondale, Castleton and then Danby were reached before finally the last weary bodies arrived back in Fryup ... from which we will not be departing next year!!!

The Lakeland Loop: Day One - Bowness on Windermere to Patterdale

If you ever get the chance to do the Lakeland Loop grab it with both hands and say yes; don't what ever you do think about it first. There are a million reason why you should decline but once you've said yes there's no going back and you'll do it whatever it takes. After all anyone can turn the pedals just one more time, anyone can put one foot in front of the other and anyone can do the Lakeland Loop if they say yes.

Mark had done the Loop before with some like minded mates over four days but I was clear from the start that if we were doing it, it was by the book or in this case the Mountain Bike Route Pack and that was a more sensible 6 day ride. We left home in North Yorkshire early one Saturday morning and by the time we arrived in Bowness it was obvious that it was going to be a very, very hot day. Bone meltingly hot. The kind of hot that makes it insane to be thinking of carrying your bike 1400' to the summit of High Street and on, and on, and on ...

But given how much organisation it had taken to ensure our kids would be safe and sound for the duration of the trip there was no option but to proceed with plan A. There was no plan B. So there we were on our bikes and wending our way towards High Street and the start of that infamous (to me) mountainous ridge that runs between Haweswater and Ullswater. We were like two little kids let out to play when as we came shooting down a steep rocky section rather too enthusiastically Mark got his first puncture of the day ....

As we were travelling light and didn't have a never ending supply of inners we really needed to try and take it a bit steadier. Luckily the sight of the mamouth climb slowly being revealed ahead of us was enough to make us see sense, for a while at least. As the climb steepened the conversation slowed and a gap started to open up between us. There's just no point going any pace but your own pace over a route like this still it was reassuring  when every time I looked up, there he was a splash of red ahead. It felt like I was toiling in an oven, everything smelled hot, hot dirt like toasted ground singeing through my airways. On and on the narrowed trail climbed, the next step always higher than the last; on the steepest sections I would count my steps allowing myself a few moments of motionless breathing before continuing to drag body and bike skywards.

The views from the top were worth every moment of the long ascent with first Brotherswater and then Ullswater far below on one side and Haweswater on the other. It felt wild, remote and mad to be on our bikes in such a place, the distant Lakeland water accentuating our heavenly height.

 
Once the main climb was done the ridge rose and fell, an endless journey of mountain biking pleasure Rampsgill Head, High Raise, Raven Howe, Red Crag, Wether Hill all came and went. And then finally Loadpot Hill and we were in free fall like two stone gathering speed on this massive mountain descent. We checked for a moment at The Cockpit Stone Circle, turned back on ourselves and surged forward once again over dusty, rocky singletrack. With the height loss came a people gain, it was a fabulous Saturday afternoon and the walkers were out in numbers as we swung past Barton Park Woods in a haze of dust covered sweat. We'd appeared out of nowhere and civilization felt strange even after a few hours on the those more singular fells. Again we were brought to our senses by a flat, this time a pinch puncture which was in reality a lucky escape given the force with which bike hit rock!

Howtown Hotel and the lure of pints of cold, sweet coke couldn't be missed although we looked a little out of place compared with the other cool, clean clientele. It was easy to think we had nearly finished but in reality there was some very technical singletrack yet to do. The route skirted the edge of Ullswater from Sandwick to Patterdale and as the afternoon wore on towards 5 o'clock the temperature never let up for a moment. Day one of the Lakeland Loop and I was already adding to my wish list - I definitely want to ride this section of the route again on fresh legs.

Patterdale YHA was a welcome sight, the end of the first day's biking. It was years, make that decades, since either of us had stayed in a Youth Hostel but that school-like, institutional feel was so familiar. Memories of backpacking round Europe in my twenties burst into my consciousness from nowhere and added to the sense of being on an adventure. We were meeting another Mark (brother in law) for an evening meal that night so it was a quick shower and change into the only alternative set of clothes we'd brought before heading off for some extra large portions of dinner. We ate sat outside the Ratcher's Tavern where the sound of a babbling brook and yet more of that endless sunshine made our re-entry into the civilized world a little less strange.

Racing for fun - the 2010 British XC Series at Dalby

Holy moly what a blast yet another chance to bike the World UCI Cross Country circuit at Dalby this time as part of the British XC Series for 2010. Having just raced this circuit a couple of weeks before at the Nutcracker I knew what I wanted to achieve and I'm not talking about times or positions cos you don't have those sort of goal when you're doing it for fun! But there was a certain rock feature that I'd totally bottled last time round that just had to be faced down. 

Arriving early enough to go and have a look at the said rocky ramp my mate tried to convince me that it was all in my head. Apparently you just needed to cycle like stink until just before you hit the rock and then hold on while you and bike eased effortlessly up and over? Sounded simply apart from the small streak of self preservation that kept saying stuff like 'are you completely nuts you're going to break at least one bone if you try to get over that' and 'brake NOW'. Doing my best to ignore such voices in my head and following close on the heels of Ruth we tore along the fire track and rocketed up the seemingly vertical stone ... I was over the top and still in one piece. It felt like I had a train in my chest my heart was beating so violently and the ton of adrenaline that had just poured into my system was actually making it pretty difficult to breath but I'd done it. We practised a few more times. I knew I could do it now but I wanted to be a bit more in control rather than on the verge of going airborne, however, as I discovered too slow and you're forced to put a foot down at the top. We decided the mental barrier was sorted and the fine tuning would come during the race, it was time to have a quick recky of Medussa's Drop and consider the options.

We timed our arrival at Medussa's drop to perfection. The first aid crew were carefully helping a battered cyclist to his feet with what looked suspiciously like a broken shoulder. My mind was made up. I really didn't feel the need to take that sharp right hand diversion today; the chicken run would do me just fine. Perhaps I'd come back and get my head round that particular challenge next time. I was pretty sure that the 10 seconds I might save on the more vertical descent wasn't going to make any difference to my race.

So all that was left to do was the race itself. Usually I hate the first lap of a race, struggling to get my breathing regulated but today I'd had so much adrenaline before the race that I felt ready to go and even managed to hang onto Ruth's back wheel ... until we hit our first short ascent and then she was gone. Everything was going well and I was just completing my second lap when I had my one and only mishap of the day. Just before coming back onto the starting field I heared 'rider on the left' behind me and moved over. I must have momentarily lost concentration because the next thing I knew my handlebars were facing the other way and a large wooden gate post was trying to embed itself into the right hand side of my body. After coping successfully with a relatively technical course it was the height of embarrassment to miss a gate way. I scrambled back onto my bike praying nobody had seen and got out of there pronto. Still I did do my best ascent of the day over the rocky ramp on the third lap and then to my total amazement (and everyone else's I think) arrived over the finishing line to hear I had got third place - a podium finish in the British XC Series was too good to be true. It's never likely to happen again but it just goes to show that you never know what you can do until you give it a go!