Stuff You Miss

Popped up 20 Trees above Hayfield today, primarily to take a picture of this and other stuff for work - glamorous eh...

Not complaining. There are worse places to be and the truth is that I sauntered up a trail I normally ride in jeans and trainers, basking in ridiculous February sunshine and wearing a big, fat, soft grin because it was just great to be outdoors.

It looked like this..

Which was  nice. And after taking assorted photos of things, stuff, kit, wandered very sort of carefully and mindfully back down and saw a bench for the first time that I must have ridden past over a 100 times without ever seeing it. I means actually noticing it. Which seems ridiculous, not least because it's a startlingly handsome stone bench with a sort of neolithic vibe to it.

And there's a new gate too. With the old gate sat behind it waiting to go wherever it is that retired gates go to. The great moorland meadow in the sky maybe? Must have opened that gate a few times. In fact I reached the point where I'd actually climb over the stile instead. You can kind of see why, it's seen better days. Poor gate.

And then a bit further down where I'm normally concentrating hard on the line up or the line down, there are two more neolithicesque monuments in the shape of stone gateposts... Going nowhere now.

And look, every dog sign has its day and this one has definitely had its, erm, you know, day? I love that sign. Poor faded thing.

And last but not least. That bloody great metal sheet stuck out of the ground by the gate could really hurt someone... I'd never really stopped and thought that before. Just look at the thing.

Well, that was exciting eh...

Random

Something Like Spring...

Apparently the local sheep are confused. They think it's spring. And when sheep, arguably the most confused animals in the universe, are even more confused, you know stuff is odd and things are not entirely right with the world.

It wouldn't really make much odds, but it's January and things are meant to be deep and crisp and even, which would also have the added bonus of freezing the remorseless sludgy remnants of months of rain into Velcro-grippy, frozen, hardpack tundra. Which would be nice.

Maybe next week eh... In the mean time, it looked nice and rode okay in parts and the cloud rolling in over Cracken Edge was kind of picturesque. A good day to bimble around local trails on tired legs, chat to random friends met by chance and chase cake. Cake doesn't move fast...

Battle scars.

Home Ground...

Cracking weekend of slip and slither, treacherous ground and the wrong bike on Saturday followed by day merging into sparkly, deep-frozen solo singlespeeding night on Sunday. All with that quiet greyness that normally seems to preface snow, but in this case was simply the prelude to an overnight deluge. Left most of the words on the hill.

Somewhere between wet and frozen.

The bluest of blues. 

Crocodiles. 

Somewhat the worse for wear.

Better.

Down - you can't see the sparkle, but it was there.

Post.

Nearly home.

Pure And Simple Every Time

Can't beat the glitter of frost reflected from bike lights, the Velcro traction of frozen Peak trails and the crunch of ice under knobbly tyres. The simplicity of just you and the bike and a hunter's moon beaming happily through grubby clouds. Living in a small pool of moving light. Hello winter.

Panoramic

Brilliant weekend of riding with slightly fried legs. Like fried eggs only longer. Snuck out over the Snake Pass on the cross bike on Saturday, which normally would be an unpleasant repetitive horror show of being buzzed by brain-dead, impatient drivers. Except that the A57 was closed to traffic bar the odd farmer or construction vehicle.

Just blissful cruising solitude in bright sunshine in the midst of beautiful scenery. One day all roads will be like this.

Then swung onto the Roman Road at the Potato Alley end of things and pottered percussively along the Roman Road, up onto Hope Brink then down via Aston into Hope.

Cross bikes are good things. Not as good on the road as a road bike, bu a lot better than a mountain bike. And not as good off road as a mountain bike, but a lot better than a road bike. Which is better than looking at it the other way round.

Then back road to Castleton, broken road, towards Dirtlow Rake, tracks to Sparrowpit, down through the Wash then back via Peep of Day, Hayfield and the farm with the angry dog who was in particularly fine, chain-rattling form. Who rattled his cage.

And somewhere above Hayfield, I got all panoramic before limping home with properly trashed legs.

Then Sunday a proper Jacob's / Roych loop with über muddy finish over Rushup and down the back bridleway from Hollins Cross into Castleton.

A certain irony that the Roych was over-run with 4x4s, convoys of them, exercising their rights to cause disproportionate levels damage to a beautiful historical track. Including two going in the wrong direction despite the one-way agreement thing. Bet they had fun when they met the others.

It always amazes me when mountain bikers stick up for fat blokes in camo 'enjoying the outdoors' in their elevated tin wank-boxes belching fumes and noise and indifference to others as they go. Here's a thought, they may be there legally, but the law is arse in this case. These are ancient pack horse tracks that, by historical accident, happen to classified as 'roads'.

They were never designed to be suitable for use by motorised vehicles and whatever the legality of it, it makes no sense. And guess what, these are the same daft access laws that prevent mountain bikes from legally riding on perfectly suitable footpaths, you know, the ones the same pro-4x4ing mountain bikers oppose.

I have nothing against 4x4 drivers as individuals, but for me, the line gets drawn at the recreational use of the internal combustion engine, because of the impact it has on other people. And maybe that does sound bleeding heart, but in a world we've tried our damndest to exhaust of natural resources and concrete over, do we really need people driving all over the bits that are left relatively unscrewed?

Anyway, that's just my personal opinion. It looks like 4x4s are going be banned from the Roych shortly regardless of what I think and I can't honestly say I'll be sorry to see them go.

And to those who say mountain bikers will be next, one question - where's your evidence for that? It's a ridiculous, simplistic attitude founded on nothing but paranoia. There are no statements I've ever seen from the Ramblers Association or the BMC or any National Park Authority to that purpose and it they exist, I'd love to see them. Not solitary forum rants by the odd intolerant idiot, real policy statements.

Anyway... there's another option; tarmac the Roych and then see how they like them roads. Not so much I'm guessing.

But a brilliant day with great riding on a magic bike in good company. Blah...