Monday 7th June 2021
I had booked a stay in Hartington Hall hostel in February 2020 but an encounter with a car in the January left me with no bike and a broken collar bone so I had to cancel. Then Covid-19 struck, so it’s only now that I am able to go on the trip.
I booked with the option of driving to Derbyshire and going for day rides or cycling there like a proper cycle-tourist. A combination of fine weather and the discovery of a suitable route through Manchester led to yesterday’s ride. It was a journey of contrasts. Much of the first 40 miles or so were very urban and flat following paths along former railway lines or beside canals. Going was slow due to negotiating dog walkers, other cyclists, many traffic-light-controlled road junctions and barriers. At least I thought it was slow, but that was before I started on the last 35 miles up the hills of Cheshire and Staffordshire Moorlands. They were fierce, especially with loaded panniers. However, I was pleased to achieve my 2nd best time cycling up Blaze Hill. Admittedly, I’ve only attempted it twice, the first being in 2019 on a lightweight titanium road bike.
I anticipated there being an absence of cosy coffee shops in and around Manchester so I packed some sandwiches to eat on the way. I was right, and the first coffee shop I came across was well beyond the city, but was quite interesting. It was in a green corrugated shed which, although clean and friendly, was not quite what I expected in the very posh village of Pott Shrigley. The chocolate cake proved a useful source of energy before the hills that were to come.
I hadn’t booked any food for this trip, so when I saw a likely looking pub in Hartington village, I called in for a pint and to book a table for the evening. No luck. They were fully booked for Monday night, as was the pub across the road. I booked a table for Tuesday at 6pm, the only time they had available!
The hostel is very old, with parts possibly from the early 15th century. It was substantially refurbished in 1611, so the bit I’m in is relatively new. I’m sleeping just down the corridor from where Bonnie Prince Charlie stayed (allegedly).
The pizza for my tea at the hostel was delicious and I went to bed with a full stomach and tired legs.
Tuesday 8th June 2021
About this time of year for the past decade, I have been cycling in Scotland on a charity bike ride (don’t worry, it’s safe to read on, I’m not asking for money!) so it just feels right to be out in the hills once more. And the hills and the local scenery round here can give Scotland a run for its money. Just lacking the huge mountains, enormous vistas and a sense of emptiness. Actually, you need to be selective when admiring the scenery here. At one point today there was a pretty view to my right, but the huge Aggregate Industries quarry to my left dominated the view over to the opposite horizon.
Ilam was just as beautiful as ever, well, perhaps more so without the crowds.
After coffee and cake (at a flower shop of all places) I continued past Carsington Water (I’d never heard of it, but it was full of tourists – of course I don’t count myself in that description.) and to avoid Matlock (which is always busy) I chanced upon Darley Dale which had a bike track alongside a railway line which was in use for steam train rides. There was even a buffet at the station and so I had a sandwich and a treacle tart whilst sat on the platform a few yards from a noisy Class 44 diesel loco. It was the only seat in the shade, so I judged the noise to be preferable to being roasted. Just as I was finishing, a steam train appeared at the other end and proceeded to drag the train out of the station with the diesel pushing at the rear. And suddenly, my view improved and silence was restored.
I had planned to cycle through the grounds of Chatsworth in the afternoon, but on each entrance was a sign sternly warning that if I didn’t have a pre-booked ticket, I couldn’t come in. I didn’t really believe it, but the thought of being turned back from just cycling through the grounds made me think twice. So I continued on the very busy B6012, annoying the numerous drivers of 4x4s who struggled to get past the surprising numbers of cyclists. That’ll teach ’em for visiting a tourist honeypot in June.
This morning on a very steep climb I heard the familiar whistle of an e-bike approaching from behind. The sound disappeared on the next descent, but then reappeared later. I was then passed by a lady of a certain age on her new Trek e-bike. She’d bought it since she lived in the village of Thorpe at the foot of the steep hill I mentioned and she liked the idea of cycling the 3.5 miles to Ashbourne for her bread, stopping for a sociable coffee before returning. We cycled together along the Tissington Trail and amongst many other things, she mentioned that she also cycled to her favourite ice cream shop near Monyash where the produce is made from the farm’s own herd of Jersey cows. Riding past at the end of the ride, the place drew me in. Reader, I indulged! In 23°C heat after a very hilly ride, this was bliss. And almost guilt-free.
Tonight’s meal was wonderful. I had to eat early (they said) since it was really busy. It turned out, I was the only occupant in a 20ft room with five tables set for four. That’ll do for me, although it did feel that they were pandering to my antisocial tendencies.
On the playlist in the pub whilst eating, America’s ‘Horse with no Name’ was played. I’ve not heard it for ages, and with nothing else to do but listen to the lyrics, I can’t help but think, without being overly judgemental, that after 9 days in the desert, surely that was ample time for him to name the poor horse?
Wednesday 9th June 2021
For those readers who value brevity, I’m home.
For the others who want to hear of how I got home, read on.
Today’s route home was deliberately different from the way I came. That’s due to complicated reasons that I won’t bore you with, but fellow Veloviewer geeks will understand. Many more of the roads today were familiar to me although some were approached from a different direction and so felt new. The first 15 miles involved climbing (it was Derbyshire after all) and most avoided busy roads. Apart from one. There was a short stretch past the Cat and Fiddle where I needed to be on the A537. As the road began to descend steeply (with sharp bends, plenty of Armco and not a great breadth of tarmac), my Garmin politely beeped at me. ‘Not now’, I muttered, ‘I need to concentrate here’. When I checked the screen half a mile later, I saw that it was telling me to turn left, or more accurately, not follow the main road round to the right that I had taken. I never even saw the junction! So should I cycle back up that narrow, busy road, or continue heading downhill. I chose the latter, on the grounds that at least I was keeping up with the traffic that way. I managed to navigate back to Macclesfield and found my way back onto the original route through a mixture of guesswork and following my nose. (Did you know that Macclesfield still has plenty of cobbled backstreets?)
Once I had crossed the Ship Canal I was at the mercy of the Warrington cycle paths. They are smooth and very numerous and I’m sure quite logical to locals, but joining them all up proved very challenging, especially to a foreigner like me. Some were linked by un-sign-posted short cuts through housing estates, others by very well-concealed tiny ginnels. In addition, many of them appeared to require the user to head in a direction counter to what would be expected before they doubled back to a more reassuring orientation. But they all helped me in my quest to head North without battling with cars and trucks.
I fear that my Garmin has gone senile. It often forgets where it is and is developing a worrying tendency to ignore its most valuable friends, the satellites. They seem to appear as invisible to it as they are to me. And it’s not that old, either.
And then this morning after an overnight charge, it was showing 98% when I clipped it to the bike. When I was ready to leave, it had frozen, so a hard reset was called for. Minutes later, we’re ready to go, except that it now only had 34% charge! Not enough to get me home, so the battery-saver mode was deployed and Strava started on my phone for insurance. I feared that if the Garmin had lied about the 98%, it may also be lying about the 34%. It seemed not, since I got as far as Wigan before it failed. Not a bad effort considering the limited mAH at its disposal. At least it guided me through the more tricky parts of Warrington and only abandoned me when I already knew the way home.
It’s been a great three days, helped by the weather, great scenery and no mechanicals. I’ve mentioned before that I write these reports primarily for myself so that I can read them back and re-live the experiences when I’m old and retired… Oh.
Anyway, I’ve enjoyed writing them.