I neglected to take any photos of Clapham's answer to the Aston Expressway, as I was concentrating on (if not necessarily achieving) the fine balance between momentum and aerobic capacity required to stay upright. Hopefully one of the others did.
Once we got past the trees (and the serious-looking mountain bikers who assumed the Moulton was a folder "straight from the office" and warned us that is was quite a big hill), it opened out a bit, the sun came out, and the surface became a lot more manageable:
Though not so much for the Mildly Inappropriate Bike™:
Wowbagger had a couple of dérailleur moments, and had to deploy the 24" gear:
While I had an unplanned dismount due to a wind-assisted pedal strike. The pilot ejected safely, and the bike took the brunt of the mud:
As we reached the summit, I bemoaned my failure to bring an anemometer for bragging rights. 25-30mph gusting to 50, at a guess.
The descent was less technical, though an abundance of muddy puddles made things exciting for Socks's Moulton. Fortunately the Land Rover branding compensated for the road tyres:
Sadly I don't have a photo of us bombing down the hill while being sandblasted in the left ear by high speed hail, and having to negotiate a cow (I appear to be making a habit of unplanned bovines).
Nor of the ford where Nothing happened to Wowbagger.
The tea room, and againsterly snow storm are left as an exercise for the reader.
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