Fanylion Mountain Bike Team
Official site of the Fanylion Mountain Bike Team. Includes mountain bike ride guides, gear reviews, bike maintenance, team reports and rider profiles of the Fanylion Racing Team.
Ladybower & Goyt Valley
April 09, 2005, Peak District
The clocks in the house chimed 7:15am (well they didn't exactly chime—they're all digital—but due to the absence of a real clock in this situation, let's just say they chimed to add some atmospheric narrative) ... the clocks rang out, and with all my gear packed I was ready to be whisked away for a FanyTastic™ weekends riding in the Peak District. But I wasn't going to get there by myself. Due to my inability to pass a driving test or three, I require a chauffeur. Usually this responsibility lies with Team Hodgson, and you can set your watch by him (that is, if you have one), always arriving on.the.dot. This time however, Team Shack was in the driving seat. He arrived only marginally late, the Tank and our gear was loaded into his car and we set off South into the sunrise. The sky was clear, the sun blazing down and the wind was now on strike - it seemed that Team Ra had done his duties to keep the Weather Gods happy. It was still fairly cold, though good biking weather, but the forecast for the rest of the day wasn’t so promising.
We rolled into a service station 15 minutes early for our rendezvous with Team Hodgson, Mastiles and Ra. Maybe we had over estimated the journey time (or Shacks Peugeot is a Time Machine), but we were soon greeted by a Lycra-clad Hodgson, who was receiving abuse and inquiring looks from the ladies working in the shop, and after grabbing some Scooby Snacks and catching up with Mastiles and Ra, we were on the road again.
With some Guns 'n' Roses to keep us occupied, we arrived at LadyBoy reservoir in good time; the Peaks are closer to home than we thought. Steve received news that Kona and Techno were running a bit late, as they had to stop somewhere near Oxford to Tame the Shrew. I thought it best not to ask. Soon Big John Henry rolled into the car park dodging the ducks, and whilst we waited for the Southern Shrew posse to arrive, we all leisurely got ready and discussed the finer points of becoming a Pilot. Full on rSpKt to Ra for taking a step closer to the Gods, but let's hope he doesn't strip off and sun bathe whilst at 40, 000 feet, or things could get nasty.
Just as we are about to set off, it starts to rain (that fine rain that soaks you through). On our way out of the car park, Steve spots a small wall which he tries to huck off, although this nearly leads to a face plant and a Hodgson/duck interaction as he isn’t going fast enough and lands front-heavy! Back to the drawing board Steve. By the top of the first gentle fire-road climb we're all warmed up and greeted with a steep and rocky climb, which Steve attempts to clear, although the damp rocks and loose surface proved too tricky to clean it without dabbing. “Surely we're doing this backwards?” I thought, but Steve assured us that he had a cunning plan and was saving the best 'till last. A quick breather, some much-needed maintenance and repair work to Al's bike and we’re off again.
Having never ridden in the Peak District before, I wasn't sure what the riding would be like. People have told me to think along the lines of the Yorkshire Dales: rocky and technical - excellent! The climb to Lockerbrook Farm was both, and continued into a fast boulder-strewn track which undulated through a forest and opened up into a quick descent. Watching Ra’s back wheel skitting and hopping all over the place, you’re keeping an eye out for any rocks it might dislodge and throw into your path, just to spice things up a bit. Once we were out in the open, the wind was making things interesting, knocking you off your lines and into rocks the size of mallards.
After dragging ourselves up the long loose climb to Blackley Hey (passing other bikers who were coming down very cautiously) and we were on the top with terrific views into Hope Valley and the cement factory spewing out crap into the atmosphere, a strange juxtaposition with the rugged surroundings, and an eye-sore on the landscape. I buried my Eco worries and focused on the next downhill, Jaggers Clough. We set off at a good speed, picking the best lines between the rocks and mud, watching out for the loose gravel on the corners, and getting some air from the water channels, all the time aware that a sheep and its lambs which are grazing by the side of the track could jump out and assault you at any second. Obviously Mastiles has the utmost confidence that the sheep aren't attracted to him [I wonder how he discovered this?], as he went flying past me half way down, shouting some obscenity in my direction as he flew by.
We all gathered at the bottom of Mastiles Clough, eager for more of the same, and set off on the tarmac to satisfy the Roady which resides in us all ... if only Team Jesus had been with us! By this time the rain had increased from that fine rain into a mid to heavy drizzle (mizzle?). More accurately, it was pissing down. After a few road miles were in the bag, taking in the views as we skirted the bottom of the valley, Team Hodgson uttered some never-before heard words: “There’s a nice little café just up ahead, who fancies stopping for a brew?” We didn't need asking twice! It was cold, about 5°C, and the persistent rain was like Chinese Water Torture on our helmet Peaks [no pun intended], so we stacked the bikes and huddled into the warmth of Edale café, where tea, coffee, hot chocolate, cake and chips were promptly ordered.
I’ll tell you this for free: if ever you’re out biking and the weather is getting the better of you, do not, I repeat, DO NOT stop for a brew and some cake! It makes it all the more harder to get going again, especially if it’s still tanking it down outside. Not wanting to leave the warmth of the café, we slowly got our gear back on and cracked on into the lashing rain, which was whipping our faces like a smacked arse. What with the tea and chips churning around my stomach it didn’t make for a great riding experience—I’ve had better!
We ploughed on along a muddy track to the foot of Jacobs Ladder, where some serious decisions had to be made. As we looked up at the rocky trail ahead of us, the clouds sat heavy on the hilltop and a fierce wind stung our faces with large raindrops. The temperature at this end of the valley was a good 3-4degC colder than it had been at Mastiles Clough: do we keep on going, up Jacob’s Ladder and into the belly of the monster and risk hyperthermia/cramp/frost bite/death and complete the 40mile quest in style, or err on the side of caution/sensibility and queer out and turn back with our tails between our legs like damp ferrets? The Lions purred and turned our backs on Ol’ Jacob and his Ladder. It was not to be – Ra had displeased the Gods in some way and we were paying the price. So with the wind and rain up our backs we headed back, with the thought that we might be able to escape to somewhere less exposed. We hooned it back down the track, hopefully away from the worst of the wind, rain and cold and back into the rocky delights of the Peaks.
Team Techno had other plans. Sam obviously thought that the going was too easy, so to spice things up a bit he decided to hurl himself 20 feet from his bike by getting his wheels stuck in a foot deep mud puddle, and landed heavily on his arm that he broke in Spain whilst giving his left knee an almighty knock too. When we all regrouped, it looked like he’d been for a swim in the Bog of Eternal Stench! It seems Sam is happiest when in severe pain, and should have his bike fitted with hazard warning lights and air bags! Although in true Fany style he carried on regardless and kept plugging away – word!
After a long tarmac haul and a quick brake pad change for John as his last set got eaten by the Peaks Mud-Paste, we had a long rocky climb up the Roman road to Hope Cross to warm the limbs and lungs. Traversing the side of the hill for a fair distance until it reached the forest at the top, a gentle climb in parts and then some steep rocky sections thrown in for good measure, it definitely got the blood flowing. The recent downpour made the rocks very greasy, and the mud had turned thick and gloopy, perfect for mud pies. Mmmmm pies … there was some serious slippage going on and it was easy to spin out the rear wheel if you weren’t careful.
At the top, we followed the ancient muddy road back across the tops and into Woodlands Forest and the Mighty Haggwater Bridge descent. This was what we’d been waiting for. Steve’s face lit up as he told/warned us of the downhill to come. The track was a sea of rocks, boulders, mud, gravel, roots, switchbacks and natural berms, plus a few more rocks, and then some! It was a real bone-shaker, chucking you off your lines and rattling your back teeth, with a few good rock steps and steep chutes to keep you on your toes. At some points it was so rough that it was hard to keep momentum, yet as soon as you tried to pedal you’d be hitting boulders and chinking your chainrings! Steve took his position on a tricky corner, poised with camera in hand, ready for the comedy stack. Right on cue, Mastiles obliged with front-wheel-caught-between-two-rocks-I-can’t-seem-to-turn-anymore-oops-terra-firma-here-I-come. RSpKt! Definitely one of the best, most technical descents in the UK.
Another good climb followed; the Hagg Farm Descent. Actually make that Ascent. Steve’s cunning meant we did this bit in the opposite direction to most route guides to get the most of the previous downhill, and I’d have to say he got it spot on, as the Hagg Farm Descent isn’t as gnarly or technical, so it can be climbed (as Steve proved, clearing it with nay a dab in sight).
To finish was a long fast descent back down to the reservoir. This one wasn’t as rough as some others we’d done, but that meant you could really just let rip and let gravity do the rest, jinking and launching of numerous water bars and gullies. Thankfully the rain had eased off a bit for the last part of the ride, so it was a quick brew and a hot dog from the shop, say a fond farewell to JH, then we made our way to Buxton.
The evening consisted of steak, chips, beer, hamsters, flatulence, whiskey, mad plans involving one blind donkey and bucket of food colouring and a nightclub called ‘Mood’, with some dodgy dancing thrown in for good measure. I tried to Tango with Al but he was having none of it …
On Sunday we were joined by a New for 2005, Limited Edition, Go Faster, Ultra-streamlined Team Shorts in Winter! Buy now, pay later, order before May and you get a spare pair of lungs absolutely free … I don’t know what training Ben’s been doing, but I wouldn’t mind a piece of it! Sadly Sam wasn’t feeling up to riding today, even though the ride planned was a relatively short one, he had had a rough night, his wounds coupled with too much beer and whisky meant he was spent. The Shrew had been well and truly tamed!
At sometime around 10:20 am on Sunday the 10th of April, the citizens of Buxton may recall seeing a group of ruggedly handsome chaps on mountain bikes riding close to the speed of sound in a peloton-esque fashion, through the High Street and out the other side like their arses were on fire. Truth be told, our arses probably were on fire, especially after the food and alcohol consumed the night before, but Ben was truly a man on a mission, and we didn’t want to get left behind.
A mile or two out from Buxton, we turned off onto a narrow side road that led to a lovely rocky track. With the water flowing down the track it was like a stream, but with loose rocks and gravel it proved a nice challenge. This soon levelled out and then turned into a fast downhill blast with big ruts and cracks, where you had to concentrate hard to pick out the good lines, otherwise things could get messy! Mastiles duly obliged by getting out of shape on a fast left-hander, and not wanting to use his brakes to slow down, decided to run wide onto the rock-strewn grass, but managed to stay out of the wall and make it to the bottom with a big “Phew!”.
Next we followed some lovely grassy tracks up hill and down dale, a short link which cut through some fields and ended in a fast grassy descent down to the road. Slippery when wet. The roadies were out in force, and they picked a fine day for it too. We made our way down to Fernilee reservoir, and up the other side on a lung-busting climb. This led to a winding forest track which ran parallel to the reservoir. The sun was shining and the Motorcross boys were out enjoying themselves, as too were even more roadies, who flew past us on a long tarmac descent, as we regrouped and decided which angle was best for the team photo.
The next section was all on road (what!?), but it wound it’s way through the Goyt valley, following the river which led into the reservoir and gave some fantastic views – very mellow.
The last section of the ride was an awesome rocky and super fast downhill back in to Buxton. Me, Ben and Steve were riding three abreast on the top section, but the first lefthander sorted that out, and then we were single file riding at hoon factor 9, getting some air off the concrete bumps which ran across the track (Ben nearly loosing it on one of these). It was over all too soon, and in the final Fanylion peleton of the weekend, made our way through Buxton and back to the cars. The clouds had started to roll in and the temperature had dropped, so it looked like we’d timed it to perfection. It was the end of some fantastic technical riding which is definitely worth coming back to, but if you plan on having a crack at Jacobs Ladder—try and pick a day when it’s not tanking it down!
RSpKt to all riders for a fan[y]tastic weekend; see you all next month in the Dales!
Team Eco Panzer.
Riders present
Team Eco Panzer
Team Ra
Team Mastiles
Team Hodgson
Team Shack
Team Techno
Team 10 Ton Kona
Sunday only:
Team Shorts in Winter
Significant Others:
Big John Henry
Enjoyment level
Peak Enjoyment!