The best I can do is tales of my own riding, and luckily I headed off to the Peak District at the weekend purely and simply to have something to bring you (and definitely not just to have fun on a bike).
I slotted in three rides, all typically Peak classics in a way and finding a balance between pain and fun. The first of these was a loop I have ridden pretty much every time I’ve been up that way.
As you can see this is a Jacobs Ladder route, taking in that climb, skirting Kinder Scout, and putting in some miles on the Pennine Bridleway before Rushup Edge and Mam Tor.
Saturday was hot. Brutally so, and with no breeze even on the high points to relieve the heat, and that added a dimension to the ride. Rolling the valley to the base of Jacobs Ladder was an easy climb with the anticipation of the serious climbing ahead. I have never found the Jacobs ladder climb ridable and have a huge amount of respect for anyone who can clean the head-sized boulders and gradient, this weekend I was soon off the bike and pushing up the hill as sweat started to literally pour from my forehead. I tramped upwards leaving wet drips on the hot stone and with sweat flowing freely across my sunglasses, pausing to recover and enjoy the view.
At the top the gradient eases and I swung a leg over the bike to ride on, before letting the suspension out and the saddle down to blast, grinning, into the first long rocky descent. This was what I’d been looking for, taking the new bike up here to let it show me what it had over lines I would never have considered on a hardtail and gaining confidence in the ride all the time.
With the rocky miles dropping away I hit a track now treacherous with large gravel and then the road, and then slammed straight into the next brutal climb. Holding the front wheel down and right on the point of the saddle I was inching upwards when I caught sight of the mixed blessing of a rider ahead. I had been debating a little walk, but this decided me to stay on and climb harder. I wasn’t going to let them see me fail, or not catch them on the hill. I dug in, sweat pouring again, passed them. Was caught at a gate and then climbed away from them on the wider gravel track of the Pennine Bridleway. As soon as I knew I’d left them behind I started to deal with the effort I’d put in, now on the rolling rocky track that seems to climb way more than I ever remember.
After a fast drop to a ford and a tough drag up that had me pushing in the blazing sun again, I was onto the recovery cruise, before a left turn and the technical rocky stepped climb I wanted to clear up to Rushup Edge.
A combination of determination and perhaps some skill got me up there mostly clean and onto the rutted peat moor over the top. A quick smooth peach of a climb up from the road over the shoulder of Mam Tor set me up for a blast back to Edale along the ridge through the summer crowds, then doubling back down the hill to let the bike do its thing again over rocks and big grass ridges while I hung on and enjoyed it with the odd hint to the machine about the way I’d prefer to go.
Back to the car dusty, sweaty and well up for the next day’s riding I gave myself the afternoon off to recover and put together a mini pub-crawl around Hope.
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