53. Summer mountain bike rides 

Friday 24^th May 2024

I had a plan to colour in some tiles around the upper Ribble Valley, specifically the bit between Horton-in-Ribblesdale and Ribblehead today.  The road between these points is fast, a bit twisty and full of lorries carrying limestone who drive like they’re in a Formula 1 race so I’ve never cycled it before thus leaving a large gap in the Yorkshire Dales National Park.  The route from Helwith Bridge planned for today was to head up small roads and unpaved tracks for six or seven miles, cross the river and head down the other side on bridleways. The distance was about 13 miles and 1,200 feet of climbing. Spoiler alert!  This didn’t happen.  Read on to find out why.

From a large, free car park in Helwith Bridge, the initial ride was up the main road to Horton-in-Ribblesdale before following a tiny lane up the Eastern side of the Ribble.  Seeing what we thought was the correct route, we turned left to descend 50m to the river to cross over a bridge, except that there was no bridge.  The river isn’t huge here, but it’s much too big to ford, so we turned back after consulting the map.  

The next left turn we took looked more promising.  There was definitely a bridge over the river here, but there were also stiles in the way: it seems that it was a footpath, not a bridleway.  I wouldn’t normally have let minor things as stiles hinder me, but Michael, riding a Scott Patron e-bike weighing in at over 24kg, was less keen, so we headed back up the hill.  The only alternative appeared to be to ride up to Cam End before heading down to Ribblehead on the road, thus almost doubling our route and the consequent climbing. But we’re fit young blokes, so we went for it.

This additional distance meant that we (or certainly I) wouldn’t get back to the van without needing to refuel, so we headed to the café at Ribblehead station.  This is a delightful place, run (probably) by volunteers with prices from the 1980s and is a perfect venue for cyclists and walkers.  I chose a huge slab of cake and a cup of coffee whilst Michael had a pot of tea.  Once we were nourished, we headed off (along the road I specifically wanted to avoid) to beyond Selside before turning off to the Southwest.  Actually, the road turned out to be fine with only a little light traffic; perhaps limestone quarry drivers finish early on Fridays?

Yet another wrong turn saw us at a dead end in a farmyard.  To be fair, this time we wanted to head South and the path we followed did just that.  The trouble was, the correct path initially headed North before sweeping round later.   This was the Pennine Bridleway and was a great track; grassy, smooth and reasonably flat. 

When the track began to descend, I was enjoying the ride so much, I missed the next turn to take us to Wharfe and instead continued toward Austwick.  This wasn’t a problem since it only added a few yards to the ride and we were soon back in Helwith Bridge for the drive home.

I messed up with my Garmin at Ribblehead, accidentally saving the ride rather than pausing it, so I have two trips recorded for the day which totalled nearly 25 miles and 2,500 feet of climbing.

Friday 21^st June 2024

Last Friday, Michael and I had planned to ride up Pen-y-Ghent, one of the Yorkshire’s Three Peaks, but by the time we’d driven five miles up the road in torrential rain, with the forecast promising more of the same, we thought better of it and postponed the trip for a week. 

Pen-y-Ghent is a mountain that holds a special place in my memories.  Each year, our school organised a sponsored walk up the Three Peaks of Yorkshire and in May 1973 I first completed the walk, with Pen-y-Ghent being the first climb.  Michael would have accompanied me on this walk, as he did for the next three years.  I had already left school by the time I completed the final walk in 1976, but I was invited back to walk with my former school mates and teachers. I also recall taking the children up the mountain in 2003, but I don’t think I’ve been back since so I was looking forward to this trip being my sixth visit.

Today, the weather was much more favourable, and so I cycled to Michael’s in Blackburn with a very old pair of walking boots in my panniers ready for the trip.  I have learned that on MTB trips with Michael, boots (or wellies) are de rigeur; I’ve stumbled into far too many deep and muddy puddles when wearing trainers so that I now come prepared.  I find that I no longer care what I look like when wearing a combination of lycra and chunky walking boots. 

We drove to Horton-in Ribblesdale and at 10:25 we began the ascent in sunny weather.

The track we took, along rough, broken limestone, was not too hilly at first so I got into a good rhythm and rode steadily at around 7 or 8 mph.  It’s taken me a long time to adjust to the slower speeds on a mountain bike.  I find that on rough tracks, even on a bike with full suspension, my speed falls off dramatically.  Add substantially increased gradients into the mix and suddenly a daily average of 6 mph begins to feel quite reasonable.  On this ride, I soon dropped to walking pace (and even resorted to actually walking) as the path grew ever steeper.  My problem was that I couldn’t gain sufficient speed over the very rough ground to keep my balance, so walking was actually quicker.  The final quarter mile was up a flight of steps which rose about 200 feet, and I knew that there was no way I could have ridden it. 

I later found that I was beginning to have trouble even walking, since I’d caught the sole of my boot on a rock and it had become detached!  The part from the instep back was still in place, but the front part was flapping like a frog’s mouth when I walked.  Once at the summit, I borrowed a small strap from Michael and secured the sole of the boot to the upper which gave me more confidence that the whole boot wouldn’t fall apart. Amazingly, the very same thing happened to the other boot on the descent! I have to admire the quality control of these boots: imagine designing a boot which was intended to last a number of years/miles and then both boots fail on the same day! I had decided to throw them away last summer when I realised that they leaked, but I hadn’t actually got round to doing it.  They’re certainly going now, though.

When we planned the ride, it was my intention to try to get across to Plover Hill, which is a mile or so to the North of Pen-y-Ghent.  The map showed a footpath across the moor, but we’d no idea whether it was cyclable.  As it turned out, there was a fairly clear track alongside a stone wall which we could follow, but there were two large stiles over walls where we had to man-handle the bikes.  The terrain was largely dry, with just the occasional boggy sections.  Only once did my wheel sink in up to the axle, but I managed to get free without too much palaver. 

Coming down from Plover Hill was scary.  Initially, the ground fell away steeply, but the surface was grass, and quite rideable.  And then we reached a cliff.  It was almost vertical, but there was a clear path which zigzagged down.  This was fine for walkers, but there was barely sufficient width for a walker and a bike.  To the left was a very steep grassy slope but to the right was an even steeper fall through rocks and a slight slip would have led to a certain death.  Or it appeared that way.  But, as you will gather, we both managed to pick our way down carefully before reaching the bridleway that we’d left earlier that morning.   

Michael is more familiar with this part of the world and he was sure that there were some spectacular fossils in the river close to Hull Pot on our route back so we spent a few minutes trying to find them.  We did see them, but they were underwater and my boots wouldn’t allow me to step into the stream, so no photos, I’m afraid.  Hull pot was interesting.  Someone had lost a map holder (with map) which was hanging on a branch over quite a long drop.  I just hope that whoever lost it didn’t fall to their death trying to retrieve it. I didn’t scramble down to check. From there, it was a very pleasant ride back down to Horton-in-Ribblesdale to the van for the journey home. 

Overall, the trip was just under ten miles, but with nearly 1,500 feet of climbing, this was my hilliest ride ever (if I use climb rate per mile travelled).

To view the video that Michael shot on the day, click here.

Friday 28^th June 2024

At 10:30, Michael and I had parked the van in a disused quarry just up from Ingleton ready for the ascent up Ingleborough, another of the Three Peaks of Yorkshire.  I’d walked up this hill six times previously; four times as part of the school Three Peaks walks in the mid 70s, once with the children 20 years ago, and once with some friends on a very wet day in 2013.  Today was intended to be just a short trip up to the summit and straight back down, since other ways down weren’t really possible on a bike.  As it turned out, I found this route similarly impossible to cycle up to the summit because of the steepness of the climb.

Soon after we’d set off, we caught up with a group of cyclists from the midlands who appeared intent on tackling the ride on gravel bikes, wearing lycra and even cleats.  When we met them after about a mile, they were reconsidering their decision, having been forced to walk a lot of the way already, and after much deliberation, they decided to head back down.  It was definitely the right decision for them since after another mile or so of steep ascent, I was also forced to abandon my bike, being unable to cycle up the rocky path.  And that was on a mountain bike purpose-built for that terrain not a lightweight road bike with slightly knobbly tyres. 

We left the bikes by the path, trusting that no-one would ride off on them while we trekked up the final half a mile to the top.  I stopped my Garmin at that point, and switched to using Strava on the walking setting.  I couldn’t genuinely claim that I’d cycled up there!

The weather was fine at the bottom, very cool (especially for June) at 11°C, but dry, with a 15mph Westerly blowing us up the mountain.  As we reached the summit at 2,375 feet, the wind had strengthened considerably and the mist was threatening to close in making the experience less than pleasant. 

I wanted to gather another Veloviewer tile just to the West of the trig point and I was fortunate in that the summit of Ingleborough is absolutely flat for about a quarter of a mile, with the tile I sought being just before the ground fell away again. 

I reached the spot where I needed to be and then turned back towards the stone shelter close to the summit.  The problem was that by then, the mist was so thick, I had to navigate by dead reckoning since all visibility had been lost.  Consequently, we only spent a few minutes on the summit, asking a friendly walker to take a photograph (to prove we’d been there) before heading back down the way we came.

As we descended, we met several groups of children taking part in the Duke of Edinburgh Award scheme.  Many looked as though they really weren’t enjoying the climb up, which was a pity, since the conditions were about to get considerably worse for them the further they climbed.  I don’t know what effect the wind-chill had on the temperature at the top, but I certainly noticed the thermometer rising with every minute that passed on the descent.  Even though we were descending the windward side of the hill the wind velocity also reduced dramatically as we lost height. We speculated how long it would be before the young lad walking up wearing only a tee-shirt and shorts resorted to adding further layers.  Assuming he had them.  

Once we reached the bikes, the ride back down was exhilarating, albeit a bit bumpy.  I had nothing but respect for the bike since it really took some hammer on that rough terrain, but everything continued to work as designed.  At least it did on my bike.  Michael sadly wore out a brake pad and was wondering what the grating sound was by the time he reached the van.  No harm was done to the rotor, but new pads were certainly needed.

Compared to last week, today’s ride was even slower at 5.4mph average and at 5.5 miles, much shorter.  Even if I added the walking bit, the distance on the day was only 6.6 miles.  Not many photos due to the weather and also the speed of descent (!!). Oh, and I have now resorted to using gardening boots to ride in.  I don’t want to spoil my best walking boots which I’ve only just bought.

Monday 1^st July 2024

I’m getting into this mountain biking lark a bit more now.  It’s still not my favourite (I do prefer tarmac roads), but I can appreciate the wildness of the countryside that we traverse through on the high fells.  I don’t think I’d like it in anything other than summer conditions though, since the weather on the tops is very changeable.  Today, however, it wasn’t changeable; it just remained rainy and cold all day long, and looked and felt more like November than July.  The only photos I took were when we were at lower level since we were in mist at any height above 1,000 feet.

We parked in a lay by just North of Buckden in Wharfedale and I was thankful that we were starting the journey at about 1,300 feet above sea level.  That didn’t stop us from rising a further 530 feet to reach the highest point.  This was along a rough gravel track over Stake Moss and after the initial climb, was quite open and flat, which ought to have afforded great views, but the mist put paid to that.  As we began to descend, the views improved as Semer Water (our goal for the day) became visible.   In search of more tiles, our journey then took us across the Raydale valley to the beautiful hamlet of Marsett. 

The map showed that we had two fords to cross, but also footbridges for the more fainthearted (me).  The first ford was a doddle, the sound concrete base not being remotely challenged by the low level of the stream, but the second was more serious.  I selected the footbridge option, which was reached by climbing three high and steep steps.  The bridge itself was just about a bike width with a spring-loaded gate at the end.  I managed to push the bike along whilst walking behind it, but when I got to the gate it was quite a struggle to fight against the spring and balance the bike simultaneously.  I still think it was a better option than trying to ride through the six inch deep river.  Michael sensibly waded through, his wellies proving their worth yet again.

We did consider having lunch at 1pm on a conveniently placed bench overlooking the water, but the forecast was predicting heavy rain at 2pm, and we were still at least an hour away, so this idea was abandoned and we continued the ride. 

The forecast heavy rain surely came as we were approaching the highest point, but we were already as wet as we were going to get at that point so it didn’t really matter.  The descent on unstable gravel was less than satisfying, but I did manage to keep the rubber side down and arrived at the van at quarter past two. 

Over 19 miles, I visited 16 more tiles on today’s trip, 12 of them for the first time, so it was a successful venture.  With just over 2,000 feet of ascent, this wasn’t the climbiest of rides and the 8.4mph average reflected this.  Once more, there are very few photos since the rain barely let off all day, and the mist put paid to any distant views we may have had.

No new MTB rides planned for the next few days, although watch out for a couple of road trips coming up this month where I’ll be gathering missing tiles in Cheshire and Yorkshire.