Weather Update ...an area of low pressure from the west seems to be mysteriously following a hapless cyclist North.

Day 10 - Friday 8th August: Castleton to Hebden Bridge. 55.07 Miles / 1475 metres climbed.

My morning hill came courtesy of Bamford today - 1st village, short and sharp. This leads you to Ladybower reservoir where I have it on good authority that 'the Dambusters' practised (the real RAF guys, not the actors). This area was my dads old neck of the woods so it was a pretty special feeling pedalling in his footsteps. After a brief interlude to take some pictures, I proceeded to take on the ascent of Snakes Pass (a long and winding climb over a peak to Glossop). Any cyclists reading this (of which I can only think of my father-in-law Mike) should ride this on a dry day (this was) at least once in their life. Anyone that has (of which I can think of only me) will know why.
At the top of Snakes Pass I stopped to chat to a photgrapher who was working for a bike magazine (proper bikes - not my sort). He was trying to get some action shots of the new Aprilla and Triumph cornering the top few bends - of which they must have ridden over and over at least twenty times. I decided the photographer must have been either fussy, or rubbish. I stopped short of offering any advice! The descent into Glossop was spectacular, and only my desire for some photos disrupted it.
Glossop itself seems to be benefitting from some form of regeneration and was certainly easier on the eye than my preconceptions. From Glossop I skirted the North East of Manchester, via Stalybridge, Mossley, Saddleworth, Uppermill and Delph. The road signs in Delph were confusing by their absence but an ever helpful Postlady set things straight for me and I pressed on towards Denshaw. A fair climb later found me descending towards Hollingworth Lake, which reminded me a little of Frensham Lakes (perhaps lost on most of this audience). From here I joined the A58 and headed once more into the clouds via a somewhat appropriately named village - Summit. This climb reminded me of a Tour climb, in that you can see it meandering upwards from the bottom to what looked like the top (it wasn't) from wherever you were on it.
Once accomplished, the only thing preventing me from a marvellous descent to Hebden Bridge was a Strawberry Cornetto (the climb, I figured, I'd earned the ice cream points).
At this point it's probably worth relaying to you some of Roy's training advice. Prior to me setting off he had posted me 3 suggested training routes all of which finished with the climb of Crockham Hill because, as Roy put it, sods law dictates that whichever route you take, god will throw in a b'stard climb at the end of it (i'm paraphrasing but not much). If ever a ride demonstrated this, then the last 1.3 miles to the B&B at Hebden Bridge does to a tee. It's pretty much 25% the whole way. If I required proof that I completed the climb, then having your wife drive by when you are as close to death as is healthy, should do it nicely.
Maddie normally beats me by a few hours but she had stopped in Glossop for a bit so it now turned into a man vs car race to the finish, just like the Top Gear feature thingys that Jeremy always wins. The car of course won, despite it being stuffed to the brim like an xmas turkley! I was just happy to have completed it, my hardest climb - ever. Our first night in a B&B saw us watching Superstars (our first glimpse of a TV in weeks). The next day would bring rain - again!

Day 11 - Saturday 9th August: Hebden Bridge to Little Stainforth. 40.29 miles / 1119 metres climbed.
Leaving behind the B&B (and their dog, Lucas) was hard as A) it was my favourite overnight stop to date, and B) I was cycling into a severe weather warning. If I hadn't known the difference between the effects of Low and High pressure on the weather before this trip, I certainly did now.
True to form three of the first four miles were spent tackling a predictably tough climb, this one to Oxenhope. The little Focus passed me early todayand I enjoyed watching it for ages, as it disappeared up the hill into the distance, until it dawned on me that if it had taken Maddie that long to get to the top, then things didn't bode well for me. As if to underline this thought, the heavens duly opened.
After a nervous descent took me through Oxenhope and Haworth I just stuck my wet head down, joined the dual carriageway and miserably (but quickly - 20mph ave) progressed through Keighley, Skipton to Coniston Cold. It was here I had a decision to make - either efficiently press on along the miserable main road to the campsite - or heads to the hills of Malham Cove and Tarn.
I had visted Malham Cove et al, on a geography field trip, but I found that 18 years had not changed the place much, even down to the rain and fog. A very steep (but not Hebden Bridge steep) climb takes you North West of the Cove, and across the moors to the Tarn. The fog meant the Tarn was nowhere to be seen again (perhaps the fog had been there since 1989) so I still cant tell you if it's much of an attraction. Despite the abysmal weather, I like riding the moors, and would have stayed up there longer if it weren't for the early signs of pneumonia kicking in. So the sensible thing saw me descend back to the saftey of the tent.
I was content to be halfway into the trip (in days not miles). The next day (a rest one) saw us visit and be a little underwhelmed by Harrogate.