Misty Mad Mile

Mountain Bike Ride

Oz

7th February route.

It’s always unprepossessing opening the curtains to be greeted by the sight of our monotheistic messiah’s micturition gently splashing the pavements, especially not at the start of a mountain biking day but who dares wins Rodney and it was bike on roof rack and off to Square Corner. Only by previous knowledge though, because Square Corner, in common with most of the surrounding hills, was somewhere under a blanket of mist and would have  proved elusive to anyone trying to find it for the first time. One by one our team assembled in the car park, well, one and one to be frank, for we were reduced to a duo today, only me and Oz, bereft of excuses so compelled to ride. The prevailing Square Corner micro-climate, which makes it invariably colder and wetter than any other part of North Yorkshire was well in evidence today; bikes fettled with the minimum of faff, we began ascending into the clouds - directly up the Mad Mile, according to Mr. Garmin, 420 ft of ascent in a mile on a loose and wet track. “Just find an easy gear and spin...” it says in all the bike magazines, obviously staffed by superhumans with the legs of Chris Hoy and the lungs of Bradley Wiggins, or written in East Anglia. We were mashing our very lowest gears and still struggling to maintain upward momentum, striving for the perfect balance between power and body position; eventually it was done, dab-free but also style free, arriving at the top panting like nuns in a cucumber factory.

The Hambledon Drove road beckoned us southward, the monotony of the track today not tempered by the magnificent views, we rode in a cocoon, operating on memory to make the correct turns. Eventually we reached Dale Town Common, the grassy track sodden, visibility reduced further, memory beginning to be doubted as gate after gate loomed from the mist only to be dismissed until the correct gate arrived, leading to an uninvitingly muddy field edge track. Somewhat dirtier than when we set off we arrived at the tumbledown barn of Noddle End and the start of the downhill track to Peak Scar Woods. The rock in this area is limestone as opposed to the more usual moorland sandstone, the downhill track is scattered with limestone like the floor after a toddler has been eating fried rice, as I’m sure you’re aware, limestone is slippery when wet, as Jon Bon Jovi once sang, in between the limestone was, of course, mud, mud with the frictional qualities of a bucket of oiled eels. The chances of a fall were beyond high, approaching inevitable given our skill set, which is vastly inferior to our enthusiasm, sure enough we both managed a tumble or two.

The remainder of the route is best glossed over, a gradual uphill first along the Peak Scar road to Sneck Yate, then following the Drove Road back to the top of the Mad Mile, at least the wind was behind us and the mist lifted occasionally to give us a glimpse of blue sky, teasing us like a well-turned ankle to a Victorian gentleman. The sun came out properly as we paused at the top of the Mad Mile, about typical when we had mere minutes left of the ride. It hardly mattered, we plunged downhill, skipping over the rocks which caused us such heartache on the ascent, rocks give way to gravel and bends, scrubbing a bit of speed off today to avoid a heathery detour, then the home straight, drainage humps specially placed for a bit of phat air showboating for those with the necessary prowess.