Ladybower Loop

The April showers held off enough for the trails to dry out and with the clocks going forward, gave us an extra hour of riding time.

I put the extra hour to good use and headed down to the Peak District for an evening spin.

I decided to drive past Langsett and Cutt Gate and put in an extra 20 minutes driving time to get to the South side of Ladybower.

Parking up in the lay-by at Cutthroat Bridge, I quickly jumped on the bike and headed away on the bridleway, keeping my eye out for the highway men that used to patrol these parts. 

Mam Tor was showing proudly in the distance, my first beacon and a taste of the miles to come.

A brief climb and descent and I was spat out on the A57, where I rejoined the busy traffic and headed to the southern point of Ladybower.

Crossing the dam and turning right at the end, I headed in to the woods on a good track.

I followed the track for about a kilometer, turning left on a muddy trail that lead me up to Hope Cross. Weaving it's way up through the pines, it soon had me high above Ladybower and on the Roman Road to take me down to the village of Hope itself. The Roman Road is wide, but has some nice corners to take.
In no time I was on the tarmac and main road through Castleton.

Climbing steadily I soon reached Peak Cave or the Devils Arse. This time round I decided not to enter the Devils Arse and took the right road in the fork to Mam Farm.

The road got steeper and the tarmac started to crumble. The road up here, looks like it's just waiting to slide back down to the valley, but I managed to pick a route up to the Blue John Cavern.

Back on the road for a short spell, until I took the left bridleway up towards Lord's Seat.

From Rushup Edge there are some amazing views back down the Hope Valley.

Industry really does meet the countryside with the concrete works dominating the landscape.

Looking back down the Hope Valley.

The trail ahead was dry as I picked my way through the ruts, dropping steadily down to my right turning on Chapel Gate down to Edale.

The trail is fast as it starts to steepen, with a few technical sections to keep you on your toes and keep your speed down.

I was back on the tarmac for a couple of kilometers out of Edale, turning right for the bridleway up to Hollins Cross.

It was mainly ride-able all the way to the view point at the top, if you managed to get in the right rut.

A quick pause at the top to soak in the 360 degree views, before dropping my saddle for the quick blast back down to the Vale of Edale.

Again the tarmac lead me to the bridleway to take me back up to Hope Cross.

Putting power down on the pedals caused me to bend my 1st gear on the cassette, it was pretty well worn, but it must have been the power I generated on the pedals, must have been! Ok maybe the worn cassette didn't help.

I tried to bend back the gear, so I could at least get the gears working again and have 2nd gear to limp up the hills.

All the bending, twisting and pulling caused the pliers on my multi-tool to snap.

Just as I thought all hope was lost, a DoE leader came over the crest of the hill, riding a his shiny stead. The only thing he was missing was some shiny armour, but from his pack he pulled out a heavy duty pair of pliers.
I straightened out the cog, adjusted the gears and I was off again, with no excuse to push up the hills.

Back at Hope Cross, I had the awesome, steep and technical descent, known as The Beast to get down. Through the gate and in to the woods, I bounced over boulders and dropped in to rock filled chutes, all the way down.

Climbing out and back over the A57, I was soon pushing up to Hagg Farm.

There are two ways down to the Derwent Valley, I chose to head North along the Lockerbrook ridge.
The descent is fast and rocky all the way down to the reservoir at the bottom, it was certainly one of the highlights of the day.

The two tarmac kilometers to Fairholmes gave me a chance to reflect on the ride, take in the spring smells and check the route back to the van.

Once at Fairholmes, I crossed to the over side of Ladybower, in the shadows of the Derwent dam.

A few more kilometers of tarmac meandered it's way South East, before I broke away for the climb up Whinstone Lee Tor.

I pushed the bike up the steep bit, only because I had no 1st gear of course, otherwise I'd have been in the saddle.....

The sun was starting to set behind the hills I was on a couple of hours previously, making me stop for a couple of minutes to soak our brief summer up.

Contouring round to Whinstone Lee Tor was a delight as the clouds lit up from the setting sun, one final look over my shoulder and I dropped down the other side, leaving the breathtaking scene behind.

A dry, fast descent took me back down to Cutthroat Bridge. I can imagine this trail been a bit muddy after a wet spell.

Bike in the van and a short drive back to Leeds for my tea. Perfect ride!

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Tour du Nidderdale

The Nidderdale area is starting to feel like home. I have ridden the circuit above the valley a few times and Howstean Gorge at the head of the valley, is a favourite campsite of ours.

Less than an hour from Leeds we set out pretty late at 9am, meaning I had a rare lie in on a Sunday morning.

Martin followed us to our start point in Pateley Bridge and the weather forecast looked promising, we scrimped for change for the parking meter and headed out.

There wasn't much scope for a warm up, as the dreaded tarmac rose steeply out of the village for about 3/4 of a kilometer. We soon turned off the B6265 and headed North West on a quiet road .

The road, soon turned to track, the track soon turned to gravel and we carried on climbing up to the quarry at the dike crossing.

Jumps and drops have been built by the locals and a few of them were sessioning their creations like proud parents. We still had a long ride ahead of us, so didn't stop for a play, as tempting as the gap jumps were.

We crossed the stream by the convenient bridge and doubled back on ourselves down the other side.

The track got faster and faster until we came to Ashfold Side campsite. This was our turning point north in to the Nidderdale valley.

We pushed up the bridleway over grassy fields and through a small farm,. The sun was shining making us forget it was supposed to be a cold day in February, but the short, fast tarmac descent soon reminded us of that fact.

Following the road North we gazed over the reservoir at our return track, until we veered off off-road once again at Ramsgill.

Climbing on farm tracks, we headed up, through the gates and mud, for the descent down to Lofthouse.

Our eyes refused to look up at the church, knowing we had a lung busting, leg cruncher of a climb to get there, like a huge dragon it perched high on the hillside above, watching our every pedal turn.

Heads down and arses up, we each ascended at our own pace and one by one popped out at the pub. It was hard to resist a pint in The Crown Hotel, after being refreshed one hot, summers day a couple of years earlier.

The gradient eased and we were away from the tarmac, climbing over the shoulder of In Moor.

We were soon dropping on the rocky track down to Scar House Reservoir. Passing a few walkers, we reined in the speed to avoid any stray rocks flying around.

At the bottom, we shoved some food in our face holes and crossed the dam for the next daunting climb.

Following the Nidderdale Way until we took the trail on top of the ridge. The valley opened up below us, and Great Whernside was covered in snow behind us, offering stunning views whichever way we looked.

On this side of the valley, the service tracks to the shooting huts, allowed us to cover the miles quickly, and in no time at all we crossed the road leading down to Lofthouse.

A short climb led us up to a quick, fast descent. The water gutters, or speed bumps, gave us some jump options as we regrouped after a our speedy cruise.

A little pedal, put us at the top of our final descent back down to Ramsgill. This was the highlight of the day, loose rocks, with some little drops lead us down, the only thing that slowed the flow was the three gates, but we were soon spat out at the bottom.

We had two, options, get on the road and get back to the van quick, or head along the other side of Gouthwaite Reservoir on the muddy farmers track. Being mountain bikers, it had to be the latter option, so we braved the mud and headed out on the track.

Stuart, showed off his Ninja Warrior skills, opening a waterlogged gate by keeping his feet dry. The let down was when he came to close it with a half hearted slam, not quite catching the latch. Martin volunteered to brave the pond and close the gate.

Once hitting the road, we cruised in to Pateley Bridge, just in time for a brew before the cafe closed.

Gatescarth & Nan Bield

Been off the bike for a while now, I have done the odd ride but nothing significant to update this blog and if it were it might have been published in some other online magazine.
There are a few reasons why, the main one being building up my photography business.
I have been photographing many mountain bike races, as well as other outdoor sports and lots of landscapes.
In September I took a trip to Iceland, and god I wished I had my bike, the place looks amazing for riding, at least there is an excuse to go back, with the camera and bike next time!

Selfie under Gljufrabui waterfall in Iceland.

A few trips are planned this year, Scotland, Morocco and the coast to coast so it's time to get back in the hills on my rare spare weekends.

First 'proper' trip of the year was planned for Gatescarth and Nan Bield in the Lakes. With a couple of new riding buddies in tow, I thought it was the perfect introduction to steep, natural trails.
We set off early from Leeds and were parked up near the church in Kentmere around 9am. A few minutes later and we were climbing out of the village on tarmac.
With the temperature reading on the van at -2C, everyone wrapped up, but by the time we headed off road at Stile End, the layers were being removed.
The climb continued on a good landrover track, until we reached the first descent down to Sadgill.
After a few gates and steep rocky sections we were soon down in the valley with the prospect of Gatescarth pass ahead of us.
Seats back at full extent and suspension locked we headed on up. The track was good and ride-able for most of it, until the stream turned to a waterfall and we had to push.
The temperature dropped with every wheel turn as we got higher, until Haweswater was revealed and a trail that looked like a white ribbon laying across the hillside leading us down.

Top of Gatescarth Pass.

The trail was icy and loose rocks the size of small dogs barked at our frames and ankles, but we were soon down to the first gate. Luckily everyone knew the unwritten rule of, who opens it, closes it and between the four of us we managed to get down in no time at all.
Down at the head of Haweswater, Jonny was hoping for a toilet, for obvious reasons and Stuart was hoping for a shop. He found out his Camelbak had leaked all over the back of my van and was out of water for the next climb.

As expected, there was nothing but cars and camper vans in the car park, meaning Jonny would have to squeeze a little harder and Stu was sharing my water.

We didn't waste anytime in the valley and followed the sign for Nan Bield. The riding was short and bikes were soon on our back for the hike-a-bike all the way up.
The surrounding fells closed claustrophobically around us, as we decided to take a lunch break at Small Water. The tarn looked cold and uninviting at this time of year.
Bikes on our backs again, we slogged up the final steep slope to the wind shelter at the top.

The first section was steep, technical and rocky with switchbacks tighter than Jonny's arse, I did manage to clear it with just a couple of dabs until I reached the bottom, relaxed and had an over the bars moment, ooops. Luckily no one saw it, so it doesn't count..... right?!
After re-grouping, we got back on the now slightly tamer trail.
A few grassy sections, offered a perfect chance to show off our skidding ability and just one more steep rocky section was all that stood in our way.

After reaching the bottom, I noticed my gear shifter had locked up, luckily it was locked in 1st so it could have been worse. At least I could manage the last few small climbs back to the road that led us out of Kentmere.
After reaching the road, it was just a swift, sharp climb back to the van. Quick change of clothes, giving the ramblers something to look at and we were on our way back to Yorkshire.

Skye & Torridon

Skye & Torridon

Our Scottish trip in spring has become a regular thing, so this year we decided to branch a little bit further north.

Torridon has a reputation on being a mountain biking hot spot, with lots of routes to choose from, so we agreed upon the towering sandstone hills as our destination.
With it being so far north from Yorkshire, we planned to set off on a Wednesday night to get some of the driving out of the way.
After the Tour du Mont Blanc the year before, Stuart and I were both eager for another hut based trip. This means keeping weight down by not carrying sleeping bags, stoves or food so we can concentrate and enjoy the descents that little bit more.
The youth hostel in Torridon, looked perfectly placed for an over night stop and with lots of tracks surrounding it we set about researching the maps, books and internet.
Thanks to Vertebrate's Scottish mountain biking books, The Wild Trails we plotted a route cutting and pasting two routes from volumes 1 and 2.
Starting from Coulags south of Torridon, the plan was to take the trail over the Bealach na Lice and drop down in to Annat, then head South West along the road to meet up with the Ben Damph circuit before heading to the hostel for our overnight stop. The next morning we would head east, picking up from where we left off and taking the Coulin pass back to our starting point. With a little bit of research on the internet, the Drochaid Coire Làir looked like a good alternative for descending down to Achnashellach.The hostel was booked for Friday night, meaning we had enough time for a ride on the way up.Stuart suggested heading to Skye and taking in Glen Sligachan, with a possible night at Camasunary, a bothy on the coast at the end of the glen. I was sold on the idea, having walked amongst the mighty Cuillin and heard much about the trail down the glen, I knew it wasn't going to disappoint.
The time soon came, so with a weather forecast suited to kite flying ducks, we headed north.

For Wednesday night we stopped over at the Strath Fillan wigwams. They are basic, heated, wooden shelters that were perfectly placed for us to throw our sleeping bags in. Rising early the next morning, we were back in the van for the remaining 4 hours to Skye.

Passing the Nevis Range, we felt rude not heading in to the Leanachan forest and sampling the world cup XC course. Offering up two short red loops, we chose on the Witches Trail first, followed by the 10 under Ben trail. The Witches Trail was the better of the two in both of our opinions, with the 10 under the Ben having more of an XC feel to it. Both of them however, offered up amazing views of the snow capped Ben Nevis.

Fueling up on Morrisons pasties back at the van, we were soon packed up and heading to Skye for our next overnight stop.

On the way up, the sun shone relentlessly, highlighting the majesty of the Highlands and filling us with optimism for the ride ahead.

In no time at all, the Cuillin were in sight and we found a parking spot near the Sligachan hotel.

We transferred our usual tools and spares in to larger packs to accommodate sleeping bags, a small meths stove and food and headed down the glen.

Our tyres rolled along a rocky trail, with only the occasional water bar in our path to cause us problems. After a couple of mile, the water bars started to dissipate but the rocks seemed to get bigger. Challenging up steps, drop offs and loose rocks kept us entertained for the 8 mile to the coast. Most of it was ride-able even with our extra burden and the views of the Cuillin pushed us on.

The bothy had a few groups in, including a work party who were helping to dig channels for the replacement shelter, but we managed to find a spot to lay our mats down for the night. The usual stories were exchanged and the odd nip of whisky passed around the fire, as we watched the sun set behind the hills before settling down for the resident mice to take over the night shift.

Rising early, we were packed up and on the bikes for 7am, leaving the other inhabitants still snoring in their comfy sleeping bags. Clouds were in the sky as Camasunary soon disappeared from view.

The way back seemed a lot easier with our packs now missing the food and drink we carried in. Now we could appreciate the trail more and give it the ride it deserves. Different obstacles arise around every corner, from short, steep, rocky chutes to flowing single-track.

Back at the van we changed for the drive to Torridon and listened out for the weather forecast on the radio. The news wasn't good, with wind speeds reaching 60mph for the following day. Along with heavy hail showers we decided to drive to the hostel, this meant clean dry clothes would be waiting for us no matter what route we did.

We chose to push our bikes up to our planned descent from Annat to Bealach na Lice as the day was getting on and legs were tired from the day before.
From the size of the rocks and the gradient, it was clear the descent back down was going to be interesting. With waterproofs on we battered through the predicted showers until reaching the bealach. A brief snack stop behind a boulder and we prepared ourselves for the drop back down.

The drops and rocks seemed bigger going down than the walk up along the three and a half mile trail. A small climb in the middle gave our forearms a rest from the constant barrage. Exposed bedrock pops up here and there, like a whales back breaching the sea. But with large drop offs at the end, keeping your speed in order is a must for choosing the right line. For the 45 minute climb the 10 minute gravity fueled descent was well worth it. Once at the bottom we headed to the pub, purely for shelter from the driving rain of course. With a warm welcome from the staff, who were more than excepting of our muddy state, we sat at the bar and sampled a whisky or two before heading to the hostel to book in.
After showering and finding spots for our wet gear in the dry room, we gathered a weather forecast for the area. Nothing had changed, there was still heavy showers and strong winds were the order of the day. We left it till the next day to decide on our route.

After a good nights sleep on a proper bed, the sun woke us up streaming in to our room. Going on our forecast, gathered through the scientific means of looking out of the window, we planned on doing the loop around Ben Damph.
After breakfast we headed to the pub to park and set off up the road to Loch Damph, where our trail started. Along the way we rode straight in to a hail squall. This lasted about 10 minutes, but managed to soak us through.
Once on the trail, the going was good with the wind behind us. A landrover track took us South East, with views of the hills opening up behind us, the sun was even making brief appearances helping us dry out a little.
Around half way, the track turns to singletrack and although muddy, our tyres found enough grip to keep spinning.
After five mile the trail turned North East, climbing up towards the shoulder of Ben Damph. The climb was pretty easy going with only the odd bit of hike a bike.
Hail showers were the only problem, causing us to retreat in to the emergency shelter to keep dry as they past over head.

Two of us had loads of room under the shelter and with the hail battering down on us, kept us warm and dry. In an emergency situation, these pieces of kit are invaluable, even been able to change a puncture underneath if needs be.

Eventually reaching the top we could see Liathach towering over Loch Torridon, as it shimmered some far off sun light. Up in the cold and cloud, it seemed a long way off. Seats were dropped and suspension turned on as we set out on the descent.
The trail dropped gradually at first then began to steepen. Again rocks littered the path as we bounced over them, picking the best line to keep us going. Reaching about half way we crossed a stream and headed in to the woods. Three big drops offs greeted us, guarding the entrance to the forest like bouncers on a night club door. Once in the trees, the trail smoothed out and meandered its way down to the road. Although steep at times and with a few exposed roots, there is nothing to worry a biker. It turned out to be one of the best trails we have ever ridden and with the pub placed right at the finish, we headed indoors to dry off around the fire.
We planned on heading further south to lessen the driving on our last day. Calling at Fort William we grabbed a bite to eat and some supplies, then carried on. We made it to Victoria Bridge, just West of the Bridge of Orchy, where we pitched a tent for the night.
The next morning, the weather looked like more of the same, showers and wind. So we headed out for a quick blast up the West Highland Way to the Bridge of Orchy then back along the road. We set off early to avoid any collisions with walkers coming the opposite way and were glad for it. After a short sharp climb, the descent which took us down to the Bridge of Orchy was the cherry on the cake.
Once back at the van, we changed in to dry clothes and were back in Leeds for a Sunday dinner.

Tour du Mont Blanc.

Last year myself and a friend attempted the Tour du Mont Blanc.

For a short read about our ride and a description of the route, plus all the information on accommodation and planning, follow the link below.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Four-Wheels-Tour-Mont-Blanc-ebook/dp/B00OAC9YNS/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1431365735&sr=8-7&keywords=tour+du+mont+blanc

Riding le Tour du Mont Blanc: Prepartions

The Tour du Mont Blanc has long been on my list of walking routes to do, but when a chance came around to do it, I had just short of a week to complete it.
So instead of walking the 105 miles I decided on using the mountain bike.

Using the huts meant the packs could be kept relatively light, everything I needed fit into my Osprey Escapist 25, including 2 litres of water.

Alongside the usual riding tools, spares and backcountry gear was a set of riding clothes and clothes for the huts. All weighing in at under 11kgs, including a DSLR camera.

The plan is to drive through the night. Between two of us the driving could be shared, making Chamonix for Monday morning.
A short ride is planned for Monday, taking the cable car at Le Tour and descending down to Trient where we have booked a hotel.
The only other hotel is booked in Courmayeur for Wednesday night, where we are sampling some of the famous Italian hospitality. This means we will be phoning the huts ahead for bed places, depending on the distance we travel.
If all goes to plan, we should be in Chamonix on Friday, leaving us a short ride back to Le Tour Saturday morning.

West Highlands (Part 2)

I headed up to Glencoe once again but this time with a few friends.
There was less snow on the tops from my last visit a month ago, but one thing hadn`t changed.... the weather.
Glorious clear skies greeted us as well as some of the locals, as we parked the van in the ski centre car park.

Our packs contained everything for two days worth of riding, including sleeping bags and cooking equipment for an overnight bothy stop. We tried to keep things as light as possible to maximise the riding fun, but we still managed to squeeze a few little treats in there to help pass the night.

To warm us up and get ourselves and bikes used to the extra load, we set off along the West Highland Way. Views don`t get much better with Stob Dearg overlooking the Kingshouse hotel as we headed down the Glen.

The West Highland way does not head down Glencoe, but cuts over the Devils Staircase down into Kinlochleven. This trail is steep and requires pushing/carrying all the way from the A82 to the summit cairn.

All our hard work was worth it just for the views alone, but to a bikers eye the trail laid out in front is the dominant feature.
There are steep technical sections from the top, dropping height fast before another short climb gains more height. This is mostly rideable and soon has you descending again.
Flowy patches are interrupted by the odd steep, rocky technical patch and in no time at all spits you out on the forest road.
The road drops quickly down into Kinlochleven, where we filled up in the Ice Factor cafe, watching the ice climbers on the indoor ice wall.

Once fuelled up we headed away from civilisation, peeling off the West Highland Way and climbing on the steep tracks up to Mamore Lodge.
After a relentless climb of 450m, we stopped at the view point over looking Loch Leven and the Pap of Glencoe.

From the view point there are a number of trails leading back down to Kinlochleven. These are fast becoming very popular with mountain bikers and the now annual Dudes of Hazzard Enduro uses these trails to separate the men from the boys.
Feeling pretty fresh, we decided on tackling the Grey Mares Trail. We dumped our sleeping bags and cooking equipment behind a rock, dropped our saddles and opened up the deer gate.
It turned out to be extremely challenging all the way down and seemed to get steeper and steeper the more we dropped. Loose rocks at the top, lead to rock slabs further on down the trail.
You are soon back in Kinlochleven with the prospect of the 450m climb to do again.
Half way up we began questioning the reasoning for loosing our height, with Simon and Stuart pointing the blame on me. Looking back it was certainly worth the challenge.
Back at our gear cache we loaded back up and headed towards Luibelt along the shores of the Loch Elides.

With heads down we soon powered our way along, untill our overnight accommodation came into view.
All that stood in our way was the Abhainn Rath, but with the recent dry weather, it looked possible to cross without getting wet feet, well almost....

Once in the bothy, we found a bed spot on the floor for the night and after a quick brew headed out in search for wood. Or as we say in Yorkshire, "Thas off art chumping".
We managed to find some dry dead wood, even in the sparse location and once lit back in Meannanachs fire place, settled
down for the night.
The treats we carried were worth the weight, as we passed around the port and cheese sharing stories with the other occupants.

The next morning again the sun shone down and filled us with optimism for the ride ahead.
Our packs were feeling that little bit lighter missing the food and drink, so we set off with spirits high.
There was alot of pushing as the path picked its way over peat bog and after a fair few miles started to take its toll on morale. Once at Loch Trieg we hit a landrover track where we tried to catch up on time.

The track was brief as we turned south down Gleann Iolairean, where once again we pushed over bog this time climbing towards Blackwater Reservoir.
Heads began to hang trudging up the so called path and not many words were spoken between us.
Once crossing the bealach a rideable trail did appear, which offered interest in keeping momentum over the rocky sections.
We lunched at the bothy on Loch Charain where we filled up on water and snacks.
The trail over to the Blackwater Reservoir was more of the same, mainly rideable but with the odd patch to catch you out.

After toiling through the peat bogs, time was getting late so we weighed up our options. It was either carry on as planned, getting back to the van late, cut over the dam and retrace our tracks over the Devils Staircase or ride the Ciaran path back into Kinlochleven and try and hitch a ride to where we parked.

With tired bodies and the promise of three pints waiting for us at the Clachaig Inn, we opted for the Ciaran path.
The path did not disappoint as it dropped 7km with only the odd uphill to spoil the flow.
It is however very steep and rocky in places but more forgiving than the Grey Mares trail we rode the previous day. As we were all tired we rode what we could and regrouped for safety every 500 metres or so.


Once back down in Kinlochleven, we phoned the local taxi and volunteered Stuart for van collection, as he was the cleanest.
Bikes were soon packed in the van and in no time at all, we were showered with tent pitched on the Red Squirrel campsite.
Three pints were indeed waiting for us in the Clachaig Inn, bought for us by Simon and Adrea who shared our cheese and port in the bothy. All that was left to do was soak up the Gaelic craic and sample some of the local whiskeys.