Stonkin' Saturday Ride

Another weekend of squeezing stuff in 'til it squeaks. We had friends coming over Saturday lunchtime until Sunday afternoon, so my only chance for a ride was early on Saturday. I also had to fit in 6 hours or so of work, which meant working Friday and Sunday evening.

Saturday morning was one of those clear and crisp winter days that we all go on about, but rarely see. There was good sprinkle of frost and the sun was out, so I pulled the SS out of the garage, still plastered in Thursday night's Chatsworth clay (if the Duke of Devonshire sees this, he'll probably try to charge me for his mud).

The route was one of the usual combinations, Chinley Churn, Coldwell Clough and the Shooting Cabin. I have to keep reminding myself when these routes get too familiar and mundane that they are classics. Some people drive for hours to get onto the trails that I step out of the house onto. This time though they had a nice new coating of freshness, the air was diamond clear and the mud was partly frozen. The views from Chinley Churn stretched right into Wales and being a Saturday there was nobody about.

Despite the all round loveliness of being out in those conditions, my legs were not happy. I think the general weariness, stress and lack of sleep had finally caught me out. I was a slightly pathetic and slouching figure hauling the bike up the climbs and stopping for regular rests. The descents were still good though. After 2 hours I started to feel better and could have carried on, but had to turn for home, the noon deadline was approaching.

Spinning along the Sett Valley Trail, I got buzzed by another rider. He passed me at some speed, really close and with no warning, brushing my elbow as he passed without a word. Apart from being a bit rude (I think you should always at least say hello or 'passing on your right' or whatever), it was a bit dangerous. I noticed he slowed quite a bit as soon as he had a reasonable 'lead', so I got the legs spinning to see what happened. I gradually caught him (I don't think he knew I was catching up, or he would have been off again), and we met at a gate. I had a brief chat, I didn't say anything about his rudeness, and he seemed a rather grumpy fella. He was on a nice geared hardtail, and he kept looking down at the back of my bike. I was hoping he'd just say something then we could get the 'yes it's a one geared bike, yes it does go up hills, no there isn't any special reason, it really is just a bike' out of the way, but he didn't. He did keep increasing the pace though (the Sett Valley Trail is fast and flat, an old railway), so I had to spin rather quick. We soon got to the climb up through New Mills which is steep for a while, and this was unfortunately the last I saw of him. I gave him a wave from the top and he waved back whilst click-click-clicking down to a nice slow gear.