I did a true 'northern grit' ride into the teeth of a gale (it'll be a hurricane next time I tell the tale), sleet and rain blowing up my nostrils and out of my ears. It were so windy the sheep were blowing past me. Cold too, although I only wore 3/4s, being a hard (stupid and almost hypothermic) fooker.I actually gave up after about two and a half hours, having worn our my rear disc pads, and coughing up grit that had made it's way up my back passage and right through my digestive tract. I must put the mudguard on next time.

I tried to make it out in time to meet up with some friends in Hayfield, but didn’t get away in time. It was a day when I really needed company.