boab asked me to comment. Where do I start?
How about some pictures? There was a lot of going up:
And loads of scenery. Apparently. We couldn't see any of it because of the dreich conditions:
which closed in soon after we set out and never really cleared. Above 300m it was solid fog and drizzle driven by a raw Northerly.
After early butterflies and some doubting moments in the early climbs, boab remembered she was riding a "proper bike wiv gears" and settled into a good rhythm on the climbs thereafter.
The time parallax effect you get on grimpeur rides caught boab out; she was convinced we were out of time when we reached the first control at Hartington, only to find we had an hour and a half in hand already!
I took my reworked 80's Dawes racer, now sporting bullhorns, Tektro RX-5 levers and a not-entirely-hill-friendly 68" gear. It rides like silk - and I feel much stronger climbing on it than on the Pompino. After elevenses at the Shop-cum-Post Office-cum-Cafe-cum-Gift Shoppe in Hartington, we headed back north. I had my first walk of the day at the climb away from the bridge at Conksbury. We stopped to admire the murk that was the view at Monsal Head (apologies for the lens condensation issues - we were soaked by this time):
Boab was having back brake problems, of a rivet vs rim kind. The sound of metal on metal as we descended the 1:6 into Monsal Dale was horrendous. The climb out of the dale at Cressbrook was where I peaked I think. I was assuming I was in for another walk, but the official route helped by taking us up the "F*cking hard" road, rather than the "F*cking impossible" road, and somehow I ground my 68" gear all the way up, without even stopping to force my lungs back in.
I had a buttock clenching moment when I almost stacked it on a sharper than I was expecting bend, on the descent towards Hope. Some deft bike handling and a brief off-road foray onto the verge and I regained control. Nobody saw - so it was OK.
We were most definitely ready for lunch at this point, so we fuelled up at the Old Hall pub. I knew the next section was going to be tough - the long climb away from the Derwent Valley at Ladybower all the way up to Stanage Edge and Burbage Moor. Boab seemed to be getting stronger and stronger, and she ground her way all the way to the top, non stop. Good Work! Needless to say, I didn't. The two 14% kicks forced me to switch to the 24" gear, but only briefly. I swore, muttered, coughed and spluttered my way up to the plateau of the moor, where the wind was blowing a hooley, and blasting us with dense,cold drizzle.
Eventually, we reached the turn at Ringinglow - noted the Info, and turned our back to the weather for the descent back to Hathersage.
A brilliant day out - not totally spoiled by the weather, though the views would have been spectacular without the fog, and worth every minute of the 3 hour-each-way drive for us flatlanders.
Thanks for the invite boab. I'll definitely play away with you again
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