One of the most rewarding things about riding with the crew I hang off the back of is the good people who I have managed to coerce into friendship. What makes it even more the humbling is that this is despite my many failings of personal hygiene and constant social faux pas.
So with two people still polite enough to accept my company and to actually enjoy Mrs Fat Lad’s, we traversed the country heading to the wrong side of the Pennines via the highest motorway in England. A weekend of booze, fine food and Wii with Phil and Ell.
Please note, for the record, Ell is way out of Phil’s league. Also Phil despite being a rather good rider is quite, quite poor at Ten Pin Bowling
The plan was as follows: up early to disappear into the hills, adding a new ride for our off road repertoire. So at half 9 when we finally stumbled out off bed things were running behind already. Not too much later and with bellies filled with porridge we loaded the car and set out for the start point.
Straight out of the car park we were climbing and my legs felt like lead already. Ahead of us the long tarmac road rolled away to the sky and we followed it willingly. Out of the valley and on the top we headed across the moor our brief stop for photos behind us.
The ground was unusually firm for late winter but I guessed it would’nt last. Across the moor it was time to cash in the climb with the best first descent I think I have ever enjoyed. Wide but technical, steep but not arse over the back wheel so, fast enough to feel truly free. Phil stormed through the stream; splashing cold water everywhere while I took the ever so sensible option of the bridge.
Lifting our steeds over the stile we stomped the pedals to the top of a stiff little climb. Once more over the boundary of field and moor we headed on. More descending down muddy fields was our reward and the familiar (at least to Phil) was over. We flicked over to the route on our GPS’ and grinned at each other, the trail ahead now completely unknown.
We fired down the soggy under wheel trench run, the dry stone walls whizzing by our sides in a blur. Arriving by the lower reservoir side Phil launched himself down the small flight of steps ahead and as usual I dismounted and minced my way down on foot. On the tarmac again we knew we had a right turn coming up. Rolling along the road purely enjoying being out we passed the Addams Family mansion on our right deciding exactly how cool it would be to have an eight foot butler. The excitment of goth-lite TV entertainment getting the better of us we over shot our turning. From the murky depths of Phil’s camelbak out came the map. Lets be honest about it, with our collective navigation abilities we were doomed…
Eventually we found a likely candidate of a path that ran up the side of some poor unfortunates house. Not really knowing where we were we decided to follow it anyway and soon emerged in a clearing with a low rock formation staring back at us. Finally gaining our bearings we roughly knew where we need to be and set off off in that vague direction. Smashing through the undergrowth bikes on our backs the most essential bit of kit we had forgotten seemed to be a machete each.
After much swearing, bush clearing and most importanly; laughing like idiots, we emerged from the dense brambles into a farmyard that had come straight out of a Mad Max-esque post apocalyptic future. Pedalling past burnt out cars and ruined cinderblock basic shelters it was a quick hop over a gate to the track we had been looking for all along. We turned back up the hill to see where we should have turned in and we both laughed and cursed as we saw the Addams Mansion looming down at us. At least we’ll know for the future….
Back down the road we followed it to the next waypoint and climbed up a narrow path claustrophobicly flanked by high housing walls. Breaking out into fields it was hard slog covering the short distance in such deep mud. Taking the opportunity for a hard earned break we propped up the bikes and wolfed down cereal bars and Tangfastics.
Refuelled we headed on out again but progress was slow, forced into too much carrying thanks to the ankle deep sticky slop. Come summer the route we fought through will be fantastic but it did little for my now tiring legs. Crossing a stream that nearly had me over the bars we came once again onto open fields and gorgeous scenery. The trail headed upwards and it was a granny ring struggle against glue like wet grass and harsh sideways battering wind. After a lot of lung bursting exertion for a very short distance we hit dryer land and stopped for a breather, Phil pointing out where he had brought Ell for a first ride out. Staring down a descent that would have tested most of the club I voiced my opinion to Phil: “Idiot…”
Recovered once again the trail turned tecnical as we crawled up back to the next summit. Two sections split by a main path I stalled on the first; running out of grip and legs in the wet but conquering the second breathlessly grinning like a fool come the summit. Climbing a stile we were onto the moor proper once again and the trail headed back towards sea level. Skirting the edge of the reservoir we rolled past two fantasticaly futiristic looking caterpillar tracked tractors. Phil warned me that there was a little climbing left to do but “It will be well worth it mate”. And climb we did, but not for too long and on not too demanding terrain, I rang in to the girls to say we weren’t far away from home as we’d been out much longer than expected and it was time to start downwards.
Nearly three miles of downhill later you would have needed a JCB to remove the grin from my face and a crowbar to lever my kung fu detah grip like fingers from the grips. It was indeed “well worth it”. On the final flat section the terrain and conditions started to tell as chain suck halted my legs dead on more then one occasion.
Rocketing down the hard park back to the car Phil was leaping each rain runner styling it up at each opportunity. Freewheels clicking like an angry bees we rolled up at the car, a quick change and a loading of the bikes later and we hungrily finished off the Tangfastics and drove back to Phils.
Back at Casa Phillis the girls had cooked up a culinary delight and I think I actually inhaled mine. All loaded up and heading home I fell asleep in the car as Mrs Fat Lad zoomed back across the pennines.
The ride made me wonder what I want out of riding, do I want to go bats arse fast everywhere we roll, or do I need to get lost occasionally fighting through the undergrowth to reveal hidden gems? I think I know my preference…
Whats yours?
Fat Lad
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