Late September was a very busy time, with Laurence and Pip’s wedding on the 17th (emotionally tiring), followed by looking after their lively golden retriever at our house for a week (physically tiring). This also involved managing the social separation of their dog and our cat (mentally tiring). I felt grateful that Geraldine and I both managed to stay fit and well so that we could enjoy the days to the full.
At the start of October, while Gee went on her annual trip to Edinburgh, I attended a local music festival. I suspect it was while mingling with the great unwashed of Chorley that I picked up a bug.
Three days of a sore throat followed, variously accompanied by a headache, a painful cough and the sniffles, only just kept at bay by paracetamol. This wouldn’t normally merit a mention, but the episode left me feeling as weak as a kitten. On top of that, the weather turned warm and wet, with rain on most days, dampening everything, including my normally irrepressible enthusiasm for cycling.
Initially, I assumed I’d simply experienced an autumn cold, but I’ve since wondered whether it might have been Covid, given that reported cases have recently been on the rise, increasing by more than 30% last month. Whatever label I attach to it, the event left me feeling thoroughly debilitated, and it was only by last Monday (the 12th) that I was beginning to feel like my old self again.
It was raining yet again on Monday, so I took the opportunity to write an advert to sell my winter bike. My plan, such as it is, is to sell that bike, downgrade the Dawes to winter duties and buy a new touring bike. Then I decided it might make more sense to get greater use out of the Moda titanium road bike, which hitherto had only ventured out on dry summer days. The idea was to convert it for winter use by fitting more robust (and considerably cheaper) wheels and chunkier tyres. I also fitted mudguards, which look good, although the clearances are absolutely minimal. It took ages of fiddling to get them fitted properly.
On Tuesday afternoon, I went for my annual flu jab, which rarely has any noticeable effect on me, but this year seemed to be different. The following day, I felt quite listless and had to make a real effort to do anything more strenuous than doze in the chair while attempting to read without falling asleep. Such ennui really isn’t like me so to try and shake off the feeling I went out with my loppers and gave a tree in the garden its annual haircut.
By Thursday, I was feeling more normal and ventured out on my newly commissioned winter bike. To give it a proper test, I set off at 9.30 am, expecting rain by eleven. Sadly, the forecasters got it right this time and, by 11.30, the mudguards were earning their keep. I had a headwind for the outward 20 miles and was looking forward to a pleasant tailwind-assisted journey home, but it wasn’t to be. The rain became much heavier and the wind dropped, leaving me very much on my own. With every mile, I could feel both my speed and my enthusiasm diminishing.
By the time I got home, I was drenched (but, importantly, not mud-splattered) and unusually tired. Perhaps Covid, the flu jab, or some combination of the two had taken more out of me than I’d realised.
On Friday, I was heading to Sheffield for a concert, so I planned to break the journey at Buxton and ride out to collect three orphan tiles. Thankfully, my ailments appeared to have abated, and the short but very hilly ride passed with little drama. My speed was embarrassingly slow, but I was happy enough, especially as the bike performed very well in its new role.
One of the tiles could only be accessed via a bridleway which started off well enough, if a little muddy. But hey, I had mudguards, so what did I care? Then the track began to climb and the surface became increasingly broken. I could just about cope with the gradient and the rough ground, but on skinny tyres it all felt rather precarious. Light rain had started as I entered the track, but when it turned to hail, I stopped to put on my rain jacket. That was when I noticed that my Garmin indicated the tile I was targeting was already in the bag so with some relief, I turned around and headed back down to the tarmac.
The route back to the car included Winnats Pass, but I was grateful to be heading down rather than up. The descent was a little scary, as my hands were cold (I’d worn mitts rather than full-fingered gloves) and there was still some hail on the ground.
Climbing the two-mile ascent of Dirtlow Rake out of Castleton soon warmed me up again, despite the rain continuing while the sun shone. A combination of a rain jacket, sunshine and wind meant that, by the time I reached the car, I’d dried off and the onward journey to Sheffield was a pleasant one.
Ever the optimist, I uploaded the ride to Strava, confidently giving it the title Three Orphan Tiles Near Buxton and then transferred it to Veloviewer. Only then did I discover that I’d missed the tile on the bridleway by a gnat’s whisker. That simply wouldn’t do. If I didn’t return to claim it, I’d have perjured myself on Strava! And while I’m not sure that Strava has a department dedicated to revealing cycling-related dishonesty, I wasn’t prepared to take the risk.
After a great concert in Sheffield, I set off home earlier than planned on Saturday so that I could make a short detour from Chapel-en-le-Frith and tackle the bridleway again. This time, the weather was beautifully sunny, although considerably colder. The ride was only eight miles, but included nearly 1,400 feet of climbing, so it was hardly a leisurely jaunt.
However, I’m now very happy that the tile has been properly claimed. Although the two rides yielded only three new tiles, my cluster increased by 14. Most of the other missing tiles in the region would require walking boots rather than cycling shoes, so they may have to remain unclaimed. There are limits, after all, to the lengths I’m prepared to go to for the sake of a few coloured squares on a map.
Post script: My winter bike isn’t selling and at the price I’ve set and I’m not sure that it will. So I’m planning to reduce the price soon and if it still doesn’t sell, I’ve calculated that the reusable parts on it are collectively worth around £300 if I had to replace them with new, so if it doesn’t go for more than that I’ll just keep it for spares.
