Monday 17th June 2019
La Mujerita
After an unseasonably cold weekend in Keswick, a few lashing showers and sky the colour of a tramp’s underwear, things began to pick up today, with the forecast hinting at improvement for the remainder of the week. Which is good because we are here all week, although a centrally-heated cottage next door to a pub does take the sting out of the weather somewhat, it is still better to be able earn those pints of Jennings with an activity a bit more energetic than walking round the shops. Under blue sky and threatening clouds, La Mujerita and me set off from Whinlatter car park to introduce her to the delights of the Quercus Trail, Whinlatter’s Blue route and a good introduction to trail centre riding in general. Wide tracks, berms, the odd rollable hump, nicely graded climbs, all of which she coped with well apart from the odd bits of North Shore, which in the spirit of The Pensioner, she walked across.
Emboldened by her new-found confidence, we segued into the start of the south loop of the red graded Altura Trail, leaving the fire road and embarking on quite a tricky uphill grind through trees, with a few rocky rooty humps to negotiate before things settled down to a zig zag climb, which gains a lot of height without ever being too steep. We reached the fire road where the route bifurcates, turning right takes you to the black graded top section, which returns to this same spot; a left turn returns to the visitor centre on a superb downhill track, designed to be ridden at any speed from gravity-assisted pootle to full on, big-ring, balls out mental. By the end, La Mujerita was beginning to loosen up and find her flow, discovering the enjoyment of swooping around berms and snaking through the trees, made even better by the awesome Lake District backdrop.
Exhilarated, we returned to the start of the Quercus Trail to ride the initial section again, where the improvement in her confidence and technique was obvious. Satisfied with our few hours riding, we made our way back to the all important cafe, pausing to look at a some llamas, (or maybe alpacas) which reside on site; apparently they can spit a green slurry of partially-digested food up to fifteen feet when unhappy or displeased, fortunately their mood today was mellow and we were spared a shower of masticated grass and camelid saliva.
Relive 'A Small Sample Of Whinlatter'
Around Skiddaw
Tuesday18th June 2019
La Mujerita
The forecast is looking, well, reasonable, low chance of showers but still cooler than we would like for mid-June, we were up and out early to ride the Skiddaw House/Dash Falls route, a classic Lakes cross-country route which essentially circles the Skiddaw massif, a wrinkled lump of rock, earth and grass that supports England’s fourth highest mountain. Riding the route in an anti-clockwise direction gives a few starting options, most of which involve the trail over Lonscale Crags, narrow, rocky and featuring a potentially life terminating drop down one side, for some reason La Mujerita did not seem keen, so we opted for the longer but less traumatic start from Threlkeld around the side of Blease Fell, into the Glenderaterra Beck valley.
But first we had to get from Keswick to Threlkeld, formerly a gentle pootle along the old railway track, a pleasant, scenic (and more importantly, flat) four miles, through tunnels and over bridges. Storm Desmond put an end to that, wiping out two bridges and destabilising another, while repairs are effected, detours are in place, all of which involve steep climbs. We opted to winch ourselves up to Castlerigg Stone Circle, a kind of pound shop Stonehenge, which has awesome views of the surrounding fells, very popular with photographers. Working on the theory that any view can be enhanced with a bike in the foreground, I took a few shots before we continued down to Threlkeld. From Threlkeld, a steep tarmac climb takes us (eventually) to the Blencathra Centre, which marks the start of the off-road section of route, following a wide track contouring a steep-sided valley, still climbing slightly until a glorious plunge down to cross the beck at a bridge.
What comes down, must go up and all that, a mile or so of rocky ascent took us to the highest youth hostel in Britain and probably the most remote. We sat on the grass outside for a bite to eat and viewed our next climb which is “not as bad as it looks” and “definitely the last climb of the ride” I was going to slip in the old favourite of the Spanish guides, “just a ten minute climb” but I could sense La Mujerita’s belief in might be waning, seeing as we had already climbed about two thousand feet on this “flat, cross-country route.”
Okay, perhaps I may have glossed over some aspects of the ride but let’s concentrate on the splendid scenery and the awesome descent to come. And the descent is one of those that stays in your memory long after you have completed it, curving down beside Dash Falls, today in full spate after the weekend rain, dropping nine hundred feet in two and a half miles, it might not be technical singletrack but for sheer exhilaration it can’t be beaten. The downside being a few miles of main road back to Keswick, although a swerve into the tea rooms at Dodd Wood breaks the journey up a little.
Relive 'Around Skiddaw'
The Whole Of Whinlatter.
Wednesday 19th June 2019
The Ginger One
Today was supposed to be the day of our third annual scattering of The Pensioner’s ashes, where we visit a favourite riding spot of his, fling a desiccated version of him around the area and have a reminisce about his wholly individual outlook on life. Contrary, cantankerous, curmudgeonly, many words beginning with C were habitually used to describe The Pensioner but he was always amusing, is still missed and he is usually mentioned a few times on every ride we do. The best laid plans of mice and men and all that, it didn’t happen today but will be rescheduled without a doubt.
Which left only me and The Ginger One to flog our way around Whinlatter, the full Whinlatter today. Altura North, Altura South followed by Quercus Trail. Usually we do the blue Quercus Trail first, as a warm up, riding it after the other two is surprisingly taxing. Today was all about the riding, no filming and a minimum of photographs, barely any rests even, we were like two machines, eating up the trails, pausing only for flapjack and midget gems. The trails were drier than Monday, we saw very few other riders and I was able to fully test the MIPS impact protection of my helmet with an unscheduled dismount complete with floor roll and headbutt in the style of a Glasgow street fighter. If only some boffin could come up with MIPS for the rest of the body, I might have less bruises and full use of my left arm today. Yes, I know they already have, it’s called a car, heard it all before.
Sticking to the forecast, the weather is improving marginally and towards the end of our ride it even became, dare I say it, a little warm. We had flown around the routes in (for us) record time and as we relaxed on the cafe balcony in the sunshine life made perfect sense. Why would anyone want to be doing anything else? And then The Ginger One departed back to the promised land of Darlington, ready to recommence his struggle for overtime in the avaricious world of process operation.
Relive 'The Whole of Whinlatter'
Leisurely Last Day At The Lakes
Friday 21st June 2019
La Mujerita
Yesterday’s “rest day” proved a little more taxing than it ought to have been, so we opted for a leisurely ride today. In the interest of full disclosure (or before I am outed), I have to admit we went for a walk yesterday, yes, a walk! And we managed without red socks, walking poles or a map case, one of us wearing jeans and carrying our lunch in an “Open All Hours” carrier bag. Plodding along, one foot in front of the other, quite relaxing but a bit boring, don’t think it’ll catch on. Today we rode from our rented cottage in Keswick, wrenched ourselves away from the gravitational pull of the pub next door would be a more honest description, to Braithwaite, through the village and surmounted the merest foothill of Whinlatter Pass to pick up the track which leads to Force Crag mine.
This heads gradually uphill for a couple of miles to reach the head of the valley, surrounded by fells, framing a photogenic view backwards to the mighty Skiddaw. Waterfalls carve their way down Force Crag, which is dwarfed by the bulk of the fells behind it, Grasmoor, Hopegill Head, Crag Hill, the head of the valley is shaded and the gusty breeze soon has us donning windproofs for warmth. Force Crag mine was the last working metal mine in the Lake District, last closed as recently as 1991, the remaining tin-roofed buildings are still firmly secured, perhaps awaiting a rise in the price of zinc and barytes which may see it return to production. The National Trust host several open days a year at the mine, which I am eager to attend, just to see what is hidden in those buildings.
Our return along the mine track is downhill and wind-assisted, significantly quicker than the outward journey and after what only seems like a few minutes, we are at Scotgate campsite, almost the scene of my untimely demise when my little toddler head was dragged underwater by the force of the current in the stream. I can still remember this vividly despite it being around the same time the Beatles were about to begin their climb to fame with Love Me Do, the water rushing past my ears, the stones on the stream bed, the weight of the water stopping me lifting my head up, then my dad’s trousers and socks drying on the bank after he had jumped in to drag me out. Nothing so dramatic today, just a quick sandwich in the cafe.
Anyway, enough of this digression, we took a more circuitous route back to Keswick, passing the minor fell of Swinside, through the hamlet of Ullock to join the Portinscale road, the usual finish of the Lakeland Monster Miles route, seeming much easier after a leisurely half dozen miles than forty five brutal miles on a cyclocross bike. Our last ride at the lakes, for this week anyway, over with, drop the bikes off at the cottage and retire to The Pheasant (our next door pub) for some essential rehydration.
Relive 'Leisurely Last Day At The Lakes'
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