I remembered talking to Rob Hogarth in KB Cycles a few weeks back about him taking an upcoming Saturday ride. He had already pre-warned me of the route he planned to take us on, so I was a little worried when I turned up at Anna’s and realized it was Rob taking the ride. I suspected I may be punished for my whining about the ease of the previous week’s ride today. It was a good turnout, with Peter, Kyle, Adam, Cath, Lisa, Danny, Lucy and of course Steve all there, as well as Alan Dick (who has recently become more of a Sunday rider due to his superior fitness).
Setting off the pace was nice and steady, about what it should be. It was slow enough that we could talk, but fast enough for the old ticker to be getting a bit of a workout. I assume Rob had put some homework into the route, as it was well thought out, challenging, yet good fun. We followed the 10 mile TT course until the Belsay turn, at which point we went right, went past the Mountain Time Trial finish line and up towards Capheaton. At Capheaton, riders were given the choice to go left and miss the Ryals, or carry straight on and tackle the Ryals. I wanted to chicken out, but once Lisa, Cath and Steven all opted for the Ryals, it was clear I wouldn’t be allowed to bottle it. To be honest, I wanted to ride them. Not much, but I wanted to.
Heading towards the Ryals, I was with good company - Lucy was next to me chatting away, Cath and Lisa in front, and Steve and Danny just ahead - all my buddies. I guess it was another one of those “happy places”. Apart from the weather trying it’s hardest to spoil things, this was turning out to be the perfect send off before my holiday.
I knew the Ryals would be hard (I’d ridden down them and nearly took off), but I didn’t realise how lumpy the route just getting to the Ryals is. I am becoming more confident on the hills, but today was going to test me. I was sensible about it though. I rode at the back with Lucy, sheltering myself as much as possible, and when the field split on any uphill sections, I was happy to get dropped and catch up on the downhills. If I had pushed myself all the way round, especially after the disaster of a 25 mile TT, I’d be in no fit state to tackle the Ryals. At the foot of the Ryals, myself, Danny and Lucy were a bit back on the rest of the group. Rob, who had waited at a junction behind to ensure everyone knew the route, caught up with me just before the climb, and I found out he’s from Huddersfield. For those who don’t know me, I was born in Boston, Lincolnshire and lived there until I was about 12-13, at which point I moved to Huddersfield. I’m a Huddersfield Town fan, and (until I discovered Northumberland) always wanted to move back there. Rob let me know that I hadn’t be on my aero bars all the way round Thursday’s 25 mile TT - which of course I already knew. He had beaten me by some time on the night, having caught and passed me before the halfway mark.
And so to the climb.
To begin with, it’s not a problem. The profile starts out reasonably easy, but then quickly becomes a vertical wall with road markings on. Put it this way, 3/4 of the way up the first climb, I was in the smallest chainring and biggest rear sprocket (34/25 I believe), and out of the saddle doing everything in my power just to keep the bike moving. I did feel pretty pleased, as the bike was at least moving. And then Alan Dick came flying past me as if he was on the flat! I nearly stopped, but realizing I’d never hear the end of it I pushed on, my legs burning. I just wondered how other people found it - did they struggle like this too? Metres before the top, my rear wheel hit a smooth, wet patch on the road and it slipped from underneath me (that would have been the second time I’d land on my delicate area - I’d already hit a pot hole and use my gentleman area as padding from my stem whilst helping to investigate a creaking noise from Lucy’s Dolan bike - that’s karma for you). I recovered from the near fall and hauled myself over the top - only to see a second hill nearly as steep as the first!
The second climb didn’t actually feel quite as bad. I’d already suffered on the first, so knew I could make it over the second. I put my head down, thought of cake, and went for it. Once over, I caught my breath (which had been completely out of control), caught up with Steve and freewheeled to the T-Junction where everyone had congregated.
“When’s the Ryals begin?” I mocked, hoping to see that others had suffered too. Alarmingly, they all seemed pretty fresh faced. I decided to play down how much I’d struggled! It didn’t bother me that I was near the back, as I’d started at the back, but I was bothered that no one else seemed to have found it as hard as I did. At least I’d attempted it rather than going straight to the cafe, I told myself. What’s the point in going for a ride if you’re going to avoid the hard bits? We waited for Danny and Lucy and then headed towards the cafe.
The cafe stop was at High House Farm Brewery (http://www.highhousefarmbrewery.co.uk/) - a client of Lazy Grace’s (the company I work for), a converted farm that now makes it’s own beer. Countless cups of tea and a “rocky road” (which appears to be whatever fruit can be found lying around added to some marshmallows and dipped in chocolate) later, we left for home.
As is usually the case on a Saturday ride, the pace going back was slightly quicker. It’s not a race - but it is a chance to stretch ones legs. The group began to spread out, and somehow (in the middle of a rain storm where I couldn’t see past my own nose) I found myself with Peter, Rob and Cath right at the front going hell for leather (but it’s not a race). I kid you not - next time it rains and you are in your car - turn off your windscreen wipers. That’s what I could see. Nose running, eyes stinging, sodden wet and cold, we belted through Darras Hall estate like a Tour de France breakaway group (it’s not a race though). I must apologise to Peter at this point, as I emptied my mouth of spit as he was right behind me - I’m fairly certain I got him full on in the face - sorry, Peter!
As we approached the T-Junction with the A696, Cath seemed to forget it was there, and attacked (but it’s not a race remember). She gave Rob the slip and came first (even though it’s not a race) and I came third! To be honest, I was happy to have kept up. I can’t tell you what the speed was as my computer is on the time trial bike now until I can afford a flashy Garmin jobby that will tell me everything I need to know including what time it is in Burundi and how many slices of cake I would need to formulate my attack strategy over Middleton Bank!
I’m guessing by the time I’d ridden another another small loop around Whalton and Ogle I’d done around 50-55 miles, not bad considering how bad I had felt on Thursday night. I won’t have another club ride for 3 weeks now, as I’m going to Florida. I’m a little concerned as to how my diet and fitness will suffer during the holiday, but I also believe my legs need a little rest anyway.
Until then - I’ll miss the Vags!