Thursday 30th OctoberWe opted for a 7 a.m. breakfast because we knew we were in for a long day, and were away soon after 8. Initially we made slow but steady progress through a frosty landscape. We reached the A6 near Lowther, the point at which we crossed our path of April 2007 when Jan and I cycled from Land's End to John o' Groats in rather different weather conditions. We passed through Morland and then on to King's Meaburn, where the other three, ahead of us, decided to cycle through a ford on the River Lyvennet. Two of the others managed to reach the other side without getting their diodes wet, and shortly afterwards, during a confabulation, we were overtaken by a pair of tandemists on a Viking steed. A little later I caught a glimpse of a red squirrel.
I was becoming concerned about the new front brake blocks I had fitted for this trip. They were stopping us effectively enough but there seemed to be more and more lever travel with each big descent. An inspection revealed that 60 hilly miles had chewed them to destruction and it was fortunate that, on a whim, I had put the old blue ones in the tool kit. They had served us well for 4600 miles and I felt that another couple of hundred was not beyond them, so back in they went.
It was a tough morning as there were more than 60 hilly miles to cover and nowhere appeared for elevenses. Jan and I had a few Geobars of the chocolate and raisin variety, and they helped, although in the cold they had the texture of peanut brittle. By the time we reached Kirby Stephen, 28 miles and more than four hours after we set off, we were all very ready for lunch. I opted for the quickest calorific fix I could think of - beans on toast - and followed this up with a tasty chunk of brack, Yorkshire's version of bara brith, even though we were still in Cumbria at this point. The café had a farm shop attached and I stocked up on calories for the coming delights of Nateby Bank and the climb over into Swaledale: a pack of large crumbly ginger biscuits and that old favourite, Kendal Mint Cake. We always tried to keep a supply of this available when out walking with the children when they were small - we found nothing better than the promise of a chunk of this particular heavenly manna when persuading 5-year-olds that Snowdon really is a nice afternoon stroll.
It wasn't long before the soloists had left us behind. Jeff is very fit and wiry, and has always been the quickest up the hills. Annie, riding a step-through Raleigh from the 1980s by the look of it, was also pretty fast, and Mick too was considerably faster than we were. There were two or three chevrons at different stages on this climb, and we walked for a good deal of it. The morning's climbing had taken a good deal out of both of us, so a slow and steady approach was necessary. Whereas the morning had treated us to weak sunshine, now the clouds were beginning to gather and I was keen to reach the top before they started to empty themselves onto us. Even so, we had to pause for breath every so often and to admire the view.
We were around the 450 metre mark when the first white flakes began to fall. Initially, as ever, we both inwardly tried to deny it, but a point came when we simultaneously dived for the waterproof jackets and rain legs. Sudden violent gusts made donning garments a problem, but eventually we were as waterproof as we would ever be and continued our trudge to the top.
Not long after the snow stopped, we reached the high pont of the ride at 511 metres.
Soon, however, the light began to fade. We hadn't seen the others for a couple of hours, after the snow our faces had been sandpapered by a sharp hail, and all the way down Swaledale the rain kept at us. We were thoroughly wet, in spite of our waterproof gear, and we had to keep moving to keep warm. The problem was that our energy levels were low and we had to stop to eat. We had no mobile signal so could not find out the others' intentions. I guessed that they might stop at Reeth for some food, but we were also aware that Annie in particular had had problems after dark on the previous day, so they might have kept moving. When we arrived in Reeth but they weren't there, it was decision time: do we stop for food and cause them worry or do we carry on? In the end, we felt that we had enough ginger biscuits and Kendal Mint Cake to keep us going to Catterick Garrison, where Annie lived, it was mostly downhill from this point (we had cycled it in July) and it wouldn't be long before we had a mobile signal.
Sure enough, sooner than I expected, the Garmin told us to turn right and I phoned Jeff, finding his answering machine. Within minutes he had returned my call: they had just arrived at Annie's house, had unloaded the bikes and after he had finished a cup of tea, Jeff was off to Tesco's for some provisions. Five minutes later there was another call, far more serious: Jeff had left his bike outside while he finished his cuppa and some thieving oik had made off with it. He had reported it to the police but did not expect anything to come of it. Jan and I negotiated a road which warned us that tanks might be turning or travelling at 5 mph, and eventually we found Annie waving us in. Jeff was looking pretty peeved, not surprisingly, but we soon locked our bike in Annie's garage, changed our clothes and we all took a taxi to the Holly Hill pub, where we had another excellent meal. It was remarkable how quickly we all cheered up after the bad news about Jeff's bike.
