The descent from Wrynose into Langdale is exhilarating. Initially the road drops away steeply with a gradient of 25 per cent, but as the valley floor is approached the gradient eases considerably and with long views ahead and little traffic it was possible to pedal hard and increase the speed. From Fell Foot it was an easy and relatively fast ride out of Langdale before joining the main road to Ambleside, which was very busy on this bank holiday weekend. We then set a good pace to Grasmere where a coffee and cake stop was the priority.
From Grasmere we headed north back towards Keswick on the final leg of our day’s ride. The main road from Town Head was closed due to the devastating 2015 winter floods: a bridge had been washed away. So instead we took advantage of a newly created cycle path, complete with what must be the smoothest tarmac surface in the whole Lake District, and we were soon riding along the western side of Thirlmere. With a slight tailwind and level terrain, we set a cracking pace. After a couple of ‘little’ bumps to cross over and with weary legs, we were soon back in Keswick.
All told, we had ridden 73 miles and climbed 7,400 feet on some of the Lake District’s most iconic passes. The ‘Super Six’, as we now called ourselves, were back in business! All that was needed to complete an exhilarating and enjoyable day was a shower, a meal and a beer or three. And satisfaction was indeed achieved.
Sunday 1 May 2016, 23 Miles
Wet Hills, Hard Hills
Sadly, this morning the weather gods were not smiling on us. We awoke to leaden grey clouds, limited visibility, rain and cold. Discussion over breakfast was a tad muted. The key question was, would Geoff arrive clad in Lycra? Should we don our own Lycra, and what would we do if we did Lycra up and Geoff didn’t? Well, no matter, because the Super Six are clearly all on the same page: Lycra was definitely the order of the day, as a Lycra-clad Geoff arrived with his son David, and Andy, a friend of Geoff’s from the North East.
In view of the weather we decided to shorten the ride and limit ourselves to just two passes. So on a damp Sunday morning we left Keswick, riding south alongside Derwent Water and heading for Borrowdale. After 5 miles, Andy, Geoff’s friend, had a rear wheel puncture which forced us to stop. Amazingly, given the rough road surfaces, this was the only puncture of the weekend. Nick kept his explosive gas canister in his pocket and with a quick change of inner tube we were soon under way again. Arriving at the village of Seatoller we were immediately on to the first of the day’s climbs: Honister Pass (Warren #80, reverse route). The stats for the climb were one and a half miles, 768 feet, 10 per cent (average). Most of the climb was straightforward, with the toughest bit coming in the last third when the gradient ramped up to 22 per cent. The Honister café at the top was built from local slate but I have to say its bright orange woodwork didn’t really chime with the surroundings. After the group photocall we opted not to stay for coffee and instead set off on the descent.
On an open road, in dry conditions and with good visibility, descending can be one of the most exhilarating and enjoyable aspects of cycling. On a very wet road, with a rough surface and poor visibility, it’s very different. In these sort of conditions I’m a wimp at descending. So I set off last, with Andy ahead of me. The initial slope dropped away very steeply at around 25 per cent so I was working my brake levers as hard as I dared to keep my speed in check. With aluminium wheel rims, constant braking risks heating the rims up, potentially resulting in a blow-out. On slopes like today’s and in these conditions a more cautious approach to braking is the safest approach.
Gradually, as the slope eased, so did my grip on the levers. With the rather misty conditions and glasses that were fogging up it was difficult to see clearly and judge my speed. With a shock I realised that I was rapidly closing the gap to Andy in front of me. Applying the brakes seemed to make little difference; the gap was still closing faster than I liked. Suddenly I discovered that I was approaching a sharp dog-leg in the road with a bridge across a stream. And to cap it all, the road ahead was covered in sheet water. With my heart in my mouth I kept the brakes on as late as I dared before releasing them and swooping round the bends over the bridge. In what felt like minutes but was probably only a second or two, I played out the scene in my mind: wheels sliding from under me, bike crashing down followed by the inevitable sandpaper effect of tarmac on Lycra-covered flesh. But somebody was looking out for me today, and I made it. A glance at my Garmin revealed a heart rate spike of over 170 bpm. With gradual braking and a flat road surface I was soon able to get my speed down to a more comfortable level and recover my senses. Looking down at my front forks I could see that they were now covered in thick black gunge: wet brake pad dust that had rubbed off. Having had my few moments of excitement I gradually caught up with Andy and followed him down to Buttermere where we all regrouped.
Then we were off again for the final climb, Newlands Hause (Warren #81). By recent standards the figures suggested that this might be a ‘lesser’ climb: a little over 1 mile long, 678 feet, 11 per cent (average) and 25 per cent (maximum). In reality it was a very demanding test. Perhaps the most notable feature of the climb was the sense of wilderness. The road out of Buttermere rapidly narrowed down to a single lane and reared up at about 20 per cent through a series of sweeping bends. The climb then eased off somewhat and I could see it snaking away and upwards about half a mile ahead. After a long straight rising at around 9 per cent the road turned sharply right and the gradient kicked up to about 15 per cent as it hugged the side of the hill. The gradient then eased off again slightly, though this made little difference as I was now gasping for breath. The hill provided a last hurrah at nearly 25 per cent before I arrived at the summit. By the time I got there the surrounding hills were covered in dense cloud and the wind was gusting strongly; so strongly that I was almost blown over whilst standing up to take the photo. Away to the right Moss Force, a waterfall in full flow, was an impressive sight and reinforced the primeval scene that surrounded us. Newlands Hause may not be as high as the other climbs we had visited, but it was perhaps the bleakest.
The strong winds and drizzle encouraged us to get moving, and the descent was certainly very steep. Mindful of my scare on the descent of Honister I made maximum use of what was left of my brake pads to check my speed. Geoff had forewarned us about a dangerous dog-leg through a farm towards the bottom so I made sure I was going super slowly at that point. In fact, I was going so slowly that, as I approached, a farmer decided it was time to get his tractor out and go for a drive. Fortunately, an oncoming car forced the tractor to pull over and Nick and I were able to nip through the gap between the tractor and the car and for the next few miles, stay in front – to the farmer’s annoyance.
By now we were all rather damp from a combination of rain and road spray so the Chalet Tearooms at Portinscale just outside Keswick was the ideal place to stop and restore our spirits. Over cappuccinos and some rather tasty marmalade flapjacks we were soon back to a more human state. The worsening weather meant that common sense prevailed, and we decided to return to Keswick and call it a day. Although at 22 miles and 2,300 feet the numbers were well down on the previous day, the quality of the riding was no less impressive.
We did, however, have one important order of business to conclude. On several occasions Geoff had told us about the legendary Cow Pie that The George in Keswick served. To be sure that we didn’t miss out he had booked a table for dinner that night. So, after freshening up and resting our weary legs, we headed over to The George to see what all the fuss was about. The pies are ‘made on the premises with prime chucks of Cumbrian beef in a shortcrust pastry’. Enquiries revealed that a full portion contained 2 lbs ‒ yes, 2 lbs ‒ of beef. We all opted for half portions. Perhaps tellingly, Geoff declined the pie and chose a steak instead. What did he know that we didn’t? Anyway, the very large half portions soon arrived and the struggle to finish them was right up there with the toughest of our climbs. I think I can safely say that eating The George’s Cow P
ie is very definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Monday 2 May 2016
Postscript
What a way to end a wonderful two days. The Super Six certainly had a blast! The following morning Michael, Nick and I left Keswick in driving rain, which got heavier as we crossed the Pennines. Along the way we passed that sign for Hard Hills. None of us said anything about it but each of us had a faraway and knowing look in our eyes. Bring on the Pyrenees!
8. DOUGHNUTS AND DENVER
Thursday 5 May 2016, 110 miles
Suffolk Coast Spree (C#11)
I had been suffering from cravings for a while so I decided to put matters right. A ride to the Suffolk coast and a Pump Street Bakery doughnut were at the top of the menu. When I’m down this way I often like to head over to Bawdsey, which involves a short detour of about 10 miles. One day I plan to ride to Felixstowe and then cross over to Bawdsey using the ferry. But I haven’t yet managed to plan a route to get around Ipswich on quieter roads.
Today was a lovely sunny day so there were a few people on the beach soaking up the rays. On the way down to Bawdsey I had passed a massive water spray gantry irrigating a field of sugar beet. This was the first one I had seen operating this year so I wondered if (hoped) it was an omen for a fine summer.
Bawdsey is the place where radar was developed and tested in the 1930s. One of the people responsible for the invention was Robert Watson-Watt, a descendant of James Watt, the inventor of the steam engine. Inventing things must run in the family. The radar station has several open days during the summer.
Next, I rode over to Orford which was as busy as ever. A quick ride down to the quayside to take a few photos, then it was back into the village for that doughnut. And a very good doughnut it was. So good that the Impulso had one too! Resisting the temptation to linger and have another doughnut, I headed off to Saxmundham and then Framlingham in lovely sunshine. All around me the fields were covered in the luxuriant greens and yellows of spring. This is riding at its very best.
Monday 9 May, 2016, 111 miles
Fun in the Sun in East Cambridgeshire (C#12)
Having had a look a few weeks ago at parts of East Cambridgeshire that were new to me, I was keen to return and see some more. And today seemed like the perfect day as it was sunny, with a light breeze and the prospect of the temperature rising into the mid-twenties. Quite possibly the warmest day of the year so far.
I made excellent time and paused in Swaffham Prior to look at a rather fine windmill. Originally built in 1857, the mill was mothballed in 1947 and then restored to working order in 1991. It is now possible to buy flour made in the mill, either from the mill directly or from several local stockists. The mill is one of a pair; the sister mill across the road is in a rather more derelict state. Talking of ‘twos’, the other notable feature of Swaffham Prior is its two churches in the same churchyard: Saint Mary’s and Saints Cyriac and Julitta’s. One, two, three: one churchyard, two churches and three saints. That’s an unusual arrangement.
Leaving Swaffham Prior I then headed over in a south-easterly direction through Fulbourn on the edge of Cambridge, eventually reaching Linton where I turned north for Balsham. By now the sun was fully out and it was getting quite hot so I was glad of a bus shelter in Balsham where I could take some shade and enjoy a cold drink. Across the road, a travelling fair was setting up ready for an evening’s fun. The gently rolling countryside was certainly enjoyable to ride through and explore. There is a good network of lanes here, so I am sure I will be back to explore them again.
The last time I was over here (C#7, 3 April) I had spotted a rather fine village sign by the crossroads at the centre of Wood Ditton but hadn’t been able to work out what it was depicting. Since then John Theobald, the Wood Ditton Parish Clerk, came to my rescue and explained that the sign shows Wood Ditton’s role as a producer of charcoal for the Newmarket area in the nineteenth century. The cartwheel base represents the movement of wood and charcoal by horse or donkey carts. The weather vane has two men using a cross-cut saw. The top element is a solar armillary with the sun and planets made to scale, plus the four points of the compass. The sign was created to celebrate the millennium. Chris Winch, a professional artist who lives in the village, submitted the design that was chosen. Creation of the sign, to celebrate the millennium, was funded by the Council with additional contributions from local residents, and most of the construction work was done on a voluntary basis by local craftspeople.
Then it was time to head broadly north-east, towards Bury St Edmunds and home. All in all an enjoyable if unremarkable ride. And with a first hint of summer; hopefully a nice long dry one to come.
Friday, 13 May 2016, 102 Miles
And the Café Was Closed (C#13)
Well it’s Friday the 13th of May which, as I’m not particularly superstitious, seemed like a good day to do my thirteenth century. After the sunshine and heat of last Monday today was a lot cooler, with little sun but unfortunately quite a strong, chilly north wind. The weather people are talking about a cold front coming from the north and making it sound as if winter is on its way back. I hope this is just a blip because the sunshine of the last few days has meant that I’ve been able to wear a short-sleeved jersey and bib shorts. Consequently, my cyclists tan lines have been coming on a treat.
I decided to head east towards the Waveney Valley and Bungay, a route that I hoped would minimise the effect of the wind. Experienced cyclists will tell you that on windy days, with fresh legs, you should always ride into the wind first and return home with tired legs and a tailwind. Well, that’s the theory, but in my experience I seem to have an uncanny knack of riding in a cyclone: headwind out, headwind home. In the flatlands of Eastern England I try to rationalise this as akin to riding in the hills.
The first 30 miles or so were very enjoyable and I reached and passed through Stradbroke in good time. Then it was on to Halesworth, passing by Heveningham Hall on the way. Heveningham Hall is a rather fine pile set in some fantastic countryside and I’ve made a mental note to return and look around a bit more. Leaving Halesworth I turned north and almost directly into a fairly strong headwind. So that rather changed the riding experience. The next few miles are in an area that I’ve heard described as ‘High Suffolk’. As someone who’s lived in Snowdonia and the North Pennines, I do find the notion of ‘High Suffolk’ quite hard to take on board. The highest point I’ve found is a mere 175 feet above sea level. No matter, it’s an attractive area and I kept telling myself that I was being virtuous riding in the ‘windy hills’.
My goal was to get to the Norfolk and Suffolk Aviation Museum at Flixton where I’d heard there was a café. I thought this would be a chance to rest my legs at about the halfway point and maybe even enjoy a nice cake or a flapjack. Pulling in to the entrance of the museum I thought it was rather quiet for midday. It soon became apparent why: during the summer, somewhat surprisingly, the place isn’t open on Fridays or Saturdays! I’m guessing that this is related to the availability of volunteers to run the museum. And in the interests of ‘balanced reporting’ I should tell you that admission to the museum is free. But nevertheless, being shut on Fridays and Saturdays. Hmmm.
From Bungay I gradually turned to a more westerly direction and for once that Suffolk cyclone didn’t work against me. I had the benefit of a tailwind for the much of the last 20 miles so I cranked up the pedalling rate up and made good progress. So on Friday the 13th of May my thirteenth century was in the bag, and apart from the closed café, without incident. Not that I’m superstitious.
Sunday 15 May 2016, 102 Miles
A Ride to Denver, Norfolk – Not the Other One! (C#14)
Having skirted round the edge of the Fens on a few occasions, I thought I would take the plunge and go over there for a proper ride. It is a bit of a challenge, though. Avoiding major trunk roads means that if I start from home I have to ride about 30 miles to get to the area
(and 30 miles back). That leaves about 40 miles available for exploration. Then, the road network in the Fens brings its own restrictions, particularly in terms of opportunities for crossing the various rivers and drainage dykes. I find the best way to plan a route is to find somewhere that looks interesting and work out a route there and back, ideally without returning on the same roads. My route planning tool of choice is a bit of software called Ride with GPS which is both simple to use and quite clever, as you only have to click on odd points on the roads of choice and it does the rest by joining up the click points, working out the distances and elevations. I do need to be a tad careful as sometimes the software misinterprets my intentions and tries to go to places best avoided. This is usually because I’ve tried to cut corners and marked too few click points. And editing a route doesn’t seem to be quite so simple, but that’s probably down to me.
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