After my last post, I was, frankly inundated with offers of a spare brake. Dave offa STW tee'd me one up as did Jon, however during stripping my forks down and putting new seals in them, Weester announced that he had an XT brake going begging. Turned out it fitted post mount and bingo, I was in business.
When Jon offers the brake, I invited him to the ride on Sunday as well. Jon (badly wired dog) was only from Glossop and knew the area like the back of his hand, plus he was recovering from a chest infection, so would be slowed down to a sufficient level to enjoy a ride with us old loafers.
So we met up at 10am at the Royal... a genius decision which came to fruition at the end of the ride. Myself, Graham, Mart, Matt, Keith, Nick and Jaq and Jon turning up a little later after riding over from Glossop. He arrived on his Ti Ragley which weighed in a three parts of fuck all. This was confirmed by us all knowingly lifting it up and nodding solemnly. I announced how glad I was to see him as it meant I wouldn't have to get the fookin map out, not having ridden here in over 5 years.
Up the track past Mount Famine, I immediately came a cropper, when following Mart who pulled up suddenly, I found I couldn't unclip and fell straight into a fucking Gorse bush. Next 5 minutes spent picking thorns out of myself. This really is a brutal climb to the horrifically unfit (me) and I was soon blowing my bollocks off when we reached the top.
The descent was nice and fast with plenty of bedrock now becoming evident after recent rain. Up along the track to the road and then the start of Rushop. Here the fucking rain arrived, accompanied by its good friend, mist. To coin a cliche it was that fine rain that pissed you through. We were all fookin soaked before we knew what was what. The drag over Rushop was made even more boring by the total lack of a view. When we finally started to drop down, the final bend before the road nearly caught me out, and looking at the tyre marks, it had recently done so to some other riders... turned out at the bottom that it was Matt and Nick!!! first regret of the day was not being there to witness it. Talking of which, Nick, keen to maintain his reputation fell off on a particularly non narly section of track up on Rushop.
At Mam nick, we took the road for a bit then turned right on the excellent track to Hollins Cross. I should imagine that the view was fucking lovely, although I HAD to imagine cause we could see fuck all.
The cross was thronged with walkers and other bikers so we headed down the run to Edale sharpish.. Brilliant bit of trail, love to have another go in the dry. Graham, in his enthusiasm, spilled straight past the sign that said footpath right, BW left and was at the bottom before we could call him. lol. Once again Nick went over the bars... twice in the space of 50 yard... in fairness the first one looked nasty, however I still could not contain my mirth.
Edale was reached and we toiled up the valley to Barber Booth, knowing full well that awaited us. The full horror of the ladder. I was determined to have a go, and, from the bridge got 20 yards. In fairness, the best effort was Jaq, who got about 5 yards further. Climbing gods we were not.
MUCH sweating, swearing and pushing got us to the top and the start of the long lovely descent. Jon told us to take the right hand turn and the BW down to the Reservoir, which was a combination of undulating ST and fast open grassy descents, followed by a short sharp steep drop to the base of the Dam. Time was pressing for me as I needed to get home and cook the kids tea, so rather than attempt Middle Moor, we shot off back to Hayfield and here my plan came to fruition, a log fire and a pint of Seldom Sworn in the Royal. Genius.
Brilliant day out and just the preparation for the shit storm that has descended on me today.