mrkawasaki
Retrobike Rider
Instructed by our erstwhile NW leader to get the aftermath thread underway, mainly because he had a date with 'a friend' post-ride - no doubt in another of his dusky laybys...
I motored Arne up from Macclesfield toward the Cat and Fiddle only to encounter blizzard conditions and patches of drifting snow. By the summit the aged Swede was struggling for grip so I phoned DSP to advise. Thinking that we'd stuggle to dig the cars out of the car park in four or five hours time, discretion, unusually for us, became the better part of valour.
Kaya and his three car Italain Job team had also reached the summit, careering back down to Macclesfield mostly on footpaths and grass verges. At our new base camp, the already cold and wet Woody (thanks to being kicked out of the Kinderegg Kar on a bike rack technicality), DSP and I were joined by Pedro and family, set for a miserable day in the mists.
Once DSP had rebooted and reconfigured, he had the wacky racers trailing out to Whaley Bridge, were we made ready for the off. I greased my toes and fingers with a Deep Heat equivalent, pumped air into the Andy Powell and we were off - straight up a slippery incline. The heart cogitated, trying to process that extra Yorkshire pudding, struggling to get the congealed brandy butter coursing through my veins. A hearty cough kick started the circulation and we settled in to a modest rhythm against the bitter headwind.
I know not of the route but can record that it was 'up' for most of it. Any features of note were treated equally with the white stuff, rendering it all visually the same. Occasional ice sheets lay in wait like nature's own IEDs - but serious mishap was averted by the slovenly and cautious pace.
No other cyclists were seen in the four hour ride, only the living-alone walker-type, striding furiously into the low clouds. A few 4x4 planks were cavorting in their toys as we took the final leg over and down towards Buxton for man fuel. A decent chippy served up variations of pies and gravy, with Pedro attemting to eat most of them. The seven-strong riders voted unanimously for the BotR - which could only go, under the circumstances, to Mark Sinnett's road bike.
Once sated, we were invited to try Buxton's own tepid waters - but most were readying themselves for another drudge of a climb out of town. Chatter was down to the miniumum as the race against darkness became more serious. Kaya donned the mantle of Ice Queen, proving the most adept and fearless over the frozen stuff en route back to the cars.
All made it down safely, despite the onset of thigh cramps, where Pedro's relations waited patiently to give him and his bike the traditional al fresco bed bath.
Statistics:
Riders: 7
BotR: Sinnett's Road Bike
Mechanical Award: Pedro's carbon post
Bikes: GT; Kona Cinder Cone; Andy Powell; unbadged Saracen; Kona + Bombers; Ibis Alibi; Stumpjumper
I motored Arne up from Macclesfield toward the Cat and Fiddle only to encounter blizzard conditions and patches of drifting snow. By the summit the aged Swede was struggling for grip so I phoned DSP to advise. Thinking that we'd stuggle to dig the cars out of the car park in four or five hours time, discretion, unusually for us, became the better part of valour.
Kaya and his three car Italain Job team had also reached the summit, careering back down to Macclesfield mostly on footpaths and grass verges. At our new base camp, the already cold and wet Woody (thanks to being kicked out of the Kinderegg Kar on a bike rack technicality), DSP and I were joined by Pedro and family, set for a miserable day in the mists.
Once DSP had rebooted and reconfigured, he had the wacky racers trailing out to Whaley Bridge, were we made ready for the off. I greased my toes and fingers with a Deep Heat equivalent, pumped air into the Andy Powell and we were off - straight up a slippery incline. The heart cogitated, trying to process that extra Yorkshire pudding, struggling to get the congealed brandy butter coursing through my veins. A hearty cough kick started the circulation and we settled in to a modest rhythm against the bitter headwind.
I know not of the route but can record that it was 'up' for most of it. Any features of note were treated equally with the white stuff, rendering it all visually the same. Occasional ice sheets lay in wait like nature's own IEDs - but serious mishap was averted by the slovenly and cautious pace.
No other cyclists were seen in the four hour ride, only the living-alone walker-type, striding furiously into the low clouds. A few 4x4 planks were cavorting in their toys as we took the final leg over and down towards Buxton for man fuel. A decent chippy served up variations of pies and gravy, with Pedro attemting to eat most of them. The seven-strong riders voted unanimously for the BotR - which could only go, under the circumstances, to Mark Sinnett's road bike.
Once sated, we were invited to try Buxton's own tepid waters - but most were readying themselves for another drudge of a climb out of town. Chatter was down to the miniumum as the race against darkness became more serious. Kaya donned the mantle of Ice Queen, proving the most adept and fearless over the frozen stuff en route back to the cars.
All made it down safely, despite the onset of thigh cramps, where Pedro's relations waited patiently to give him and his bike the traditional al fresco bed bath.
Statistics:
Riders: 7
BotR: Sinnett's Road Bike
Mechanical Award: Pedro's carbon post
Bikes: GT; Kona Cinder Cone; Andy Powell; unbadged Saracen; Kona + Bombers; Ibis Alibi; Stumpjumper
