200 km around Durham and Northumberland (there's a thread here:
https://yacf.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=114643.0)
A moderately glorious day to be out, just a touch of wind, but chilly, especially in the dark on the return (more on that later).
The new road I'm relying on isn't finished yet, and I had to divert along the A68, which currently has a contraflow along the dual carriageway. Getting out of Darlo to the north-west is shit at the moment.
I always thought of this route as not-really-weekday-friendly, but once I was past Bishop, passing Kinrin and the castle, there was really no traffic to speak of. Actually, it was eerie once I crossed the Tyne and the A69. To complete the ghost-town vibe, the cafe at Capheaton was shut. Not to worry, I had plenty of snacks, which got me down to Gregg's in Hexham.
By the way, NCN72 (part of the Sandstone Way) makes a lovely route into Hexham, between the river and the railway, under the A69 and generally avoiding the grotsome roads around Hexham.
From Hexham, the route goes up and up away from the Tyne, and a stomach-full of Greggs goodies is not ideal for that (one reason I have the control at the cyclists' cafe in Capheaton), but I'd been taking it easy all day, and there was no reason to change, except that I was chasing the daylight by now, since I left Darlo fairly late to let the traffic clear a bit.
Over to Blanchland, and over again to Rookhope Arch, I was trying to think what these hills are called, but I suppose that you wouldn't bother naming all of the pebbles on the beach either.
Race Yate is what I've always called the hill over to Westgate out of Rookhope. It has a solid northern ring, redolent of leadmining and rushing waters, and I'm sticking with it. It's a tough climb regardless, and the descent into Westgate is narrow, steep, and covered in slurry.
There's a scene in Julian Barnes's Staring at the Sun which I always remember - a WWII pilot is high, high above the clouds and sees the sun rise, then dives, and sees the sun rise again. I nearly recreated this in reverse, seeing the sun set on the descent to Rookhope Arch, but no being quite quick enough to catch it up again on the climb.
Weardale is for hillbaggers. The name of every climb out of it should sing in the ears of every road cyclist. Today's route was Swinhope Head. Well, after negotiating the footbridge next to the ford in Westgate. I didn't like the look of that water.
The sign, though, told me that the road was closed - snow drifts.
I nearly went back to Stanhope, then over Bollihope (it's ploughed and gritted, and a bit lower than Swinhope's peak of 2000-and-some feet), but there was a light on in the B&B at the foot of the climb, and I went to bother the couple halfway through their dinner. They were lovely - they weren't sure themselves if the road was clear, but the wifie called the shepherd who lives up the hill, while the husband offered me tea. I refused, reluctantly, but the light was fading, and I did need to get going.
The shepherd's verdict was that I'd be fine, with some pushing.
It was about three-quarters of a mile to a mile's pushing, in the end. I'm not sure if it was any quicker than the diversion would have been, but I doubt I'll regret those quiet moments of moonlight and snow up on the hills.