|
|
||||
| Date | Starting Place | Ending Place | Author | Last Update |
|
|
||||
| 05-15-11 |
Halifax, West Yorkshire, England |
Glossop, Derbyshire, England |
ray | 07-19-11 14:13:06 |
|
|
||||
|
When I got up, I was treated to the same gray overcast I'd had the night before. Wind and rain was predicted for today. Vaughan and I talked about his recent history and life situation, his photography business, and my route. He suggested I ride through Halifax on the main road and then recommended some other roads and ones to avoid. He made me a massive bowl of porridge and toast with coffee and the time continued to slip by. I decided to try and leave by 11am. In the end, I got off about 11:20. I put on my rain pants as it cold and drizzling. I also put on my extra top layer as it was that cold. On my way into Halifax, I passed the Wainhouse Tower, the one Vaughn and I had seen the night before. It looked better when it was all lit up. Back-lit and against a metal gray sky, it isn't so impressive.  I coasted down to Halifax, a large, busy town in the bottom of the valley of the River Calder. When the road became a divided highway and merged into another busy one, I got off and began asking directions. I got a bit lost through the urban sprawl but eventually found my way out of Halifax, which seemed to be when I crossed the river.  Note that I had to get the right angle to make this look like a secluded spot as it was surrounded by highways and buildings. Halifax went on much longer than I thought it would given the tour I'd taken from the night before. I didn't mind the urban riding, but it certainly wasn't the high point referred to in the title! After the outskirts of Halifax finally ended, I started up.  As I climbed out of the valley, I got misty green views across.  The area I was riding through was traversed by several major roads and a motorway, the M62. Motorways are much like rivers, they can only be crossed at certain places. It can be hard to find a minor road over these "auto rivers." What's more, the minor roads tend to longer and steeper than their car-carrying cousins. My route took me almost due South of Halifax. Once I got up to Holywell Green, I rolled over pretty green countryside.  Note the low clouds in the distance. The weather was seriously overcast and rain looked eminent. I took a wrong turn and almost ended up on the motorway. Turning around, I found the lane that went under and then aside the motorway.  Next up was Scapegoat Hill.  It was a bit of a grind into a headwind. The foggy view from the top.  Finally, it started to rain. Not hard, but the kind of consistent drizzle that eventually soaks into everything. After lots of hard riding, where I sometimes had to wonder how much up there could be in a country with such low "mountains," I arrived at Holmefirth where I wanted to get out of the rain and cold and stopped in at a cafe, had a bit of quiche and cole slaw, and just sat in the dry and warm, for a while. The real challenge of the day was just ahead. The Holme Moss is one of the peaks in the Peak District. The route I was on took me right over it. The rain had become more insistent and the wind remained in my face. From Holmfirth, it was all up.  This was the moment on this tour where I started asking myself what, exactly, was it about riding a loaded touring bike up a steep slope against the wind in a driving rain that I liked. I was tired, wet, and determined. Unfortunately, the experience reminded me of last year's climb up the Kancamagus Pass. Another wet, foggy day up to the top. I got into a rhythm. I'd ride for a while, then rest for a few minutes, and then repeat. The rain and no cover meant that not moving meant standing in the rain. I could see the short, steep hills I still had to climb.  It was just this stream  and me on the road as even people with cars didn't want to be on this road. While grinding away, I happen to look down the valley and, unbelievably, saw this rainbow.  I was shocked and hurried to get a photo, wondering if it would even come out. I couldn't imagine where in all this wet could the sun be shining. It was nowhere I was riding, that's for sure! The last mile of the climb is marked on the road in 1/4 mile increments. While this helped, the wind and rain got stronger as I got toward the top. Also, the views got more dramatic.   Note the dim reservoir in the upper-right center of the photo. I couldn't have been more than 1/2 a mile away! This ride would have been very nice in good weather. But, this was strictly getting over the top on a bike. I had to stop frequently, sometimes every 100 yards, to rest. It was some of the worst biking conditions I've ever experienced. After cresting the nondescript top,  I coasted down in even worse rain and wind. It was a real struggle to maintain control of the bike on wet, curvy pavement in a strong wind. I was not having fun and I wanted this day to be over. I had to ride in a busy A road for a mile to reach the road to Glossop, the next place where a bed for the night would be available. I turned onto the B6105 that also would have afforded some fine views in clear weather though I couldn't see anything. I kept my head down. I was soaked through: socks, shoes, jersey. There were a few fast, stupid drivers, but most gave me plenty of room. Nonetheless, in my poor mental state, I worried that I might get hit on the curvy, tree-lined wet road in the fog and wind.  I struggled into Glossop and stopped at the first place offering lodging, The George Inn. I was dripping wet and even had water come out of the pit zips in my raincoat when I raised my arm to take my helmet off! I was wet and cold and ready to be out of the weather. I took a long hot shower and went down to the bar/restaurant for a meal. I ate a good mushroom stroganoff, some steamed broccoli, and a so-so chocolate sundae. I went back to the room and went to sleep after watching for tomorrow's forecast: more rain. |
||||
|
|
||||