A Classic Tour of Peak District Road Climbs

It is, of course, traditional and wholly natural to whinge, moan and generally grumble about someone else's carefully thought through Sunday ride route. Rides just wouldn't be the same without a constant chorus of moans, grumbles and "better" alternative suggestions when some poor soul has spent the greater part of the previous night poring over a map in search of new tracks or even just new ways of linking the old ones together. Its a thankless task.

However. Good natured piss taking aside, every now and then there comes a ride which thoroughly deserves a slagging off and today's was just such a route. It was so bad I can't even bring myself to bore you with the exact details except to say that Blaze Hill, Pym Chair, The Goyt Valley climb to Derbyshire Bridge and the Cat and Fiddle all featured. By the time we arrived at the Cat and Fiddle in horizontal stinging sleet and minus a lot wind chill my morale was shot, my spirit broken and my toes were knocking inside my boots like frozen sausages in a spin dryer.

Misery, Misery, Misery, Misery, Misery.

Descending the Cat at over 40mph with an epic tail wind helped revive my spirits - not least at the thought of the majority of the group slogging head down straight into the stinging hale and biting head wind of the Cat and Fiddle bridle path en oute to Cumberland Clough and Macc Forest. The Cat was great fun till the first hairpin corner; the wind was so strong it was almost impossible to get the bike to turn-in across the wind without sliding and several of us ended up on the opposite side of the road. It took about 15 minutes from the Cat and Fiddle to the Chilli Jam Cafe - some indication of the strength of the wind assistance. I even made it back in time for the breakfast menu, but Virgil and Snowy didn't and seemed to spend an awfully long time loading The Brokeback Mountain-mobile... perhaps the blacked out windows made it difficult to see what they were doing inside?

David Cameron summed it up well when he said he realised the groups were getting bigger but hadn't appreciated until today that we had an active policy of trying to put people off riding with us.

Ride high lights? Seeing a very large Hare on the Pym Chair climb. Seeing Bingo develop a full-on sense of humour failure. Seeing Little Big Bird a. In the distance and b. Keeping on going without a word of complaint (Is there somethng wrong with you lad?) Getting back to Bollington before going blue and getting a bollocking from a Red Shirt at the Errwood Hall car park. How exactly does he think Lord and Lady In-bred got to and from their stately pile? Does he suppose they left the coach and four at the main road and walked up through the mud and shite? Did they bollocks. They got the horse to take them all the way to the front door and they probably got there by coming down the rutted track from the Cat and Fiddle/Shimmering Tor that meets up with the surfaced trail on the Cat side of the Hall.

With such small minded, prejudiced attitudes to cycling its no wonder so many mountain bikers just use common sense and ride where they want to, and with so much choice on such a shite day for the walking fraternity, why exactly did we spend so much time on the road?

As a recently much criticised man-with-a-map myself I should really take a sympathetic tack and be much more understanding and empathetic to Kev's position, but then, we are the Nancy Boys after all and I'm not ready to drive a Brokeback Mountain Mobile just yet.

Nice step, by the way Virgil. Was that an official Jeep accessory or have you accessorized it yourself?