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.
Cross Fell and Borrowdale
February 18, 2006, North Pennines & The Lakes
The first ride of 2006 and there were many questions to be asked:
With Hodgson’s stand-down as Team Captain imminent due to the impending birth of Jr Hog, how would the Team cope and would the new regime of the riders organising monthly rides be a success? (Yes)
Would Shack and Mastiles manage to drag themselves away from their computers and finally come on a Team ride? (Phil: Yes, Mike: No)
Would Downhill Maniac be able to drag himself away from his new girlfriend and do a different sort of riding? (No)
Would Hodgson convert fully to the Dark Side of road biking, shave off all his body hair, become a monk, take a vow of celibacy, become a vegan, join a road club and sell his Turner? (Maybe)
Would Boy Band ever come back from Australia, or would the lure of lots of mini Aborigines be too great for him? (Yes)
Would Techno ever mange to complete a ride without ending up in A&E? (Yes)
Would Shortbread regain the title of Dominant Male after his drubbing at Hodgson’s hands on the Garburn Pass? (No)
Would Ewok ever complete a ride without going over the handlebars? (We will have to wait and see)
Would Shortbread’s bike hold together for an entire ride without shedding components along the trail? (Yes)
Despite being on leave, would White Sox turn up for the ride? (No)
Shortbread was the first rider to take up the challenge of organising a ride in 2006, and keen to impress planned a suitably monstrous 46mile epic across Cross Fell in the North Pennines, rumoured to be one of the toughest rides in Britain. Following squeaky protestations from Team Ewok that if the route was shorter he would attend, Shortbread bowed to pressure and reduced the route to 26miles, though the footnote below that particular MBR Hard Loop said “Caution, this route should only be attempted by Experienced, Fit Mountainbikers and only in good weather”. So in the middle of February the spluttering infested might of Team FanyLion would ride this route, or die in the attempt.
Despite having the route shortened just to please him, Team Ewok decided he would rather move house (do Ewok’s have houses?) than ride his bike and didn’t make the ride, but eight keen, excited Lions made it to Kirkland on the edge of the North Pennines bang on time and so began the pre-ride banter, handing out of new Wiley X glasses and FanyLion T shirts, Faff (from Shorts in Winter), a poo behind a wall (from Hodgson), bike fettling, hurling of abuse and small mammals and all other manner of pre ride requisites. At 11am, and right on schedule, the Team set off.
A tarmac spin along low level country lanes was a great warm up. The weather was superb, and whilst the thermometer was lolling about around the 7degC mark, the brilliant winter’s sunshine added a few degrees to the air and the FanyLion Peleton powered along the tarmac like a swarm of angry bees, heading for Blencarn, then on to Milburn. We then swung left and followed the tarmac ribbon up past Burney Hill and the climb towards Great Dun Fell had begun. This tarmac climb is uttered in hushed tones on Road Biking websites (so Shortbread tells me) as it is the highest surfaced road in England, and it was a monster. I was keen to show the Team a clean pair of heels and gave it some welly up past Silverband Mine, and waiting for the rest of the pride to struggle up the road I had amazing views of the valley below me; the snow capped mountains of the Lake District in the far distance, and the huffing, puffing, sweating might of Team FanyLion dragging themselves up the road. Looking like the climb up to Mt Ventoux, the road snaked its way around the hillside, and after being photographed by some suitably impressed walkers we set off again, ever upwards towards the radio station at the top. As we climbed above the snow line the newly Jey Hodgson was first to the barrier and theTeam regrouped and marvelled at the lunar snowscape that confronted them. Shack and Big John brought up the rear and despite constant protestations that he was unfit and was dying, Shack looked good and it was nice to see him back on his bike. Big John was suffering the after effects of a cold the previous week and was making slower progress than usual, but he wasn’t that slow, and before long the Team set off on the snowy descent of Knock Fell.
What I imagine was a superbly rocky descent was now a snow chute of crispy icing sugar that was difficult to steer in. Team Twin Pin was acting as Minesweeper and doing a good job of navigating, with Shorts in Winter (in his thermal tights I may add) leading the rest of the Team in Twin Pin’s tyre tracks. Great fun until we rode below the snow line and we were back onto brown and green ground.
The following six miles or so were good fun, but challenging, as the trail ran alongside Trout Beck, regularly crossing back and forth over the stream, riders having to decide whether to be 'Core and ride through the ford, or be safe and stop and carry their bikes over, rather than risk getting a dunking, which would have been bad news as the air temperature had now dropped to a chilly 4degC due to the increased altitude and being on the colder north face of the hillside.
A snack stop by the River Tees found Hodgson woefully inadequately foddered up and all riders contributed random gourmet delights to fuel the mighty Jey Boy. Thanks guys. A quick scoot over a nice wooden bridge and we were off again, blasting along the valley bottom, Twin Pin and Shorts in Winter succumbing to an excess of testosterone and racing one another to every rise, dip and rock in the trail.
The singletrack became a fire road, which turned left past Bellbeaver Rigg (it’s on the map, honest!) and rolled its way along Tyne Head, with Shorts in Winter and Hodgson displaying their new found road peleton skills by slip streaming one another along at 30mph+ as the gravel became tarmac and the Team found themselves at the village of Cross Gill. More food, energy bars, a trip for Twin Pin to the Post Office to post a letter (or maybe buy some food), Shortbread safety-pinned his split Camelbak, then let off a huge trump which signalled time to saddle up once more and start the fire road climb of Black Band, Pike Man Hill and Longman Hill, leading ever upwards to the snow capped peak of Cross Fell, beckoning us in the distance. Techno was climbing well, powering a high gear and cart-horsing his way up the climb like a Beast, dragging Shortbread, Shorts in Winter and the rest of the pride in his wake.
Once again we climbed into the snow line and the temperature dropped. After inspecting the innards of a dead rabbit (which Auld Yin was keen to snuggle up next to and die so he said) we rode on, the trail now covered in thick snow again. Progress was difficult. The only way you could ride was to seek out the tussocky grass at the edge of the trail and ride on that: too far to the left and you slid onto the track and lost momentum in the deep snow. Too far right and you slid off the trail altogether and down the hillside. Tricky stuff.
Big John was finding the going hard and to increase his misery of weak lungs due to his cold he had also pulled a muscle in his leg and was finding pedalling difficult. As the front runners found themselves at Greg’s Hut, a stone bothy refurbished to allow tired walkers/MTBers to take shelter, the sun began it’s slow slide from the sky and I was hoping Big John could find some reserves of energy and complete the ride; but the toughest part was yet to come. The climb up from Greg’s Hut to Cross Fell Well was painful. On an easier day we may well have climbed all the way to the summit of Cross Fell, but not today. Climbing on foot through the snow, dragging/carrying our bikes with us was very hard work indeed. The snow had thawed and refrozen numerous times and was like icing sugar, impossible to ride in and difficult to walk in, even worse in cycling shoes. Cresting out on The Screes we took in views across Melmerby Fell, Ousby Fell and Gamblesby Fell in the distance and it was all worthwhile. We were on the highest peak in England outside of the Lake District: we were stood on the only hill within a 45mile radius with snow on it; we were tired, cold, exhilarated, and buzzing from the exertion. It felt good to be alive. This is what it’s all about. This is what makes Mountainbiking and Team FanyLion something special.
We remounted our steeds and headed off, inching along the tussocky grass North Shore style until the trail crested the hillside and the sheltered North Facing slope became a sunny South Facing slope and the snow disappeared. The long descent of High Cap began with rocky sections that were very steep and treacherous, riders following muddy grooves at the side to allow faster progress. The rocky descent then became a smoother grass descent and speeds of up to 40mph were attained, belting hell for leather back down to Kirkland. A comedy stack from Twin Pin and the days ride was over. We had covered 29miles and had been away from the cars for 6 hours, though our ride time had been over 4hours, a lot of that time had been spent walking/hiking our bikes up to Cross Fell. We all felt we had completed a brilliant, challenging ride, through remote wilderness, in mud, snow and rocky terrain. Now thoughts turned to a hot shower, a cold beer and meat.
We got packed up as quick as we could, keen to sniff out a suitable hostelry that would meet our alcoholic and carnivorous (not Ross, the veggie homo) requirements. Superb planning by Shortbread meant that we were only a 25min drive from Penrith, where cars were squeezed into the tiny car park and we were showered and looking for the Lowther Arms by 6.30pm. And it took some finding, what with all the boy racers in their suped-up Corsas/Saxos/Peugeot 206s (and the Daddy of them all in his Impreza with big bore exhaust), but once we saw this Bastion of Light, this most Holy of Shrines, we knew we were safe. Upon entering, 7 pints of finest hand-pulled ale were ordered (plus a pint of artificial gassy rubbish for Shack) and we got dug in and ate fine food, and lo, it came to pass, that it was good, and the weary men didst feel much better for a plate of food and a couple of pints. Then it was time to move on and sample other hostelries of Penrith, but none quite matched the quality of the Lowther, so after a couple more pints and resisting the temptation to pollute ourselves with VRB, the sensible faction headed off home to leave Shack, Shortbread and Big John to the hardcore drinking and clubbing. Which they duly did until the ripe old time of 3.30am. rspKt. Or maybe no rspKt.
Next day Shortbread was late down for breakfast due to his hangover; Shack looked like a pig had shat on his head; Big John looked completely fine and said he could have handled another couple hours-worth of whisky last night. It then dawned on me that Big John had spent the night drinking with men that he was old enough to be the Father of, and had drunk them under the table. Hardcore Auld Yin.
It was then that Team Shack dropped the bombshell. A pink, fluffy, sickly-sweet smelling, powder-poof of a bombshell; the gayest bombshell I have ever had the misfortune to be hit by: he was not riding today. He said he simply ‘Couldn’t be arsed’. No-one could believe it, we were stunned. The temperature outside was –1degC after a clear night of –5degC and we chiselled thick ice off our cars and the day was beautiful: sharp, clear, bright blue sky – you don’t get many days like this, and Shack couldn’t be arsed. It simply did not make sense. If I had lost an ear or an eye or a leg or a head even I would have ridden that day, it was simply too good to miss, but Shack...well...we just couldn’t understand, and no amount of begging, pleading or insults could change his mind. Even stranger, rather than go home he was going to come with us to Keswick and go shopping: I ask you, have you ever heard anything quite so queer in all your life? No, I didn’t think so.
The drive to Keswick was a pleasure in itself, with snow capped mountains welcoming us to the northern Lakes. We had intended to ride up Helvellyn today, but the snow of yesterday made us err on the side of caution. Helvellyn is 950m above sea level, a good 55m higher than Cross Fell, and it had been tough going in the snow yesterday, Helvellyn would be virtually impassable, so it was decided that we would ride a Lakes Classic, the Borrowdale Bash, which super-experienced MTBer and all round well-travelled Wise Man Twin Pin assured us would satisfy our lust for thrills and spills.
We saddled up and after marvelling at the incompetence of the trainee MTB instructors set off, riding through Keswick looking like the seven Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Shack was to do a spot of window shopping then maybe go for a walk. Wicked.
We followed the road south out of town, passing a few runners competing in a local half marathon, then took the road left towards Ashness Wood. Another steep road climb got us warmed up nicely and amazing views of Derwent Water were taken in before we continued to the end of the tarmac at Watendlath. The bridleway crossed the beck and in front of us was a brutal rocky climb which Ross and John both declared virtually unrideable. To mortals maybe, but not to the King of Loriaz. All riders made valiant efforts, with Shorts in Winter putting in a good attempt, but the prize of the morning went to Lord Shortbread, proving that when things get steep and technical uphill, he is the Master. The rest of us were left floundering about losing traction on the loose rocks or struggling to keep our front wheels down whilst Shortbread, with the nose of his saddle inserted firmly up his rectum, climbed further than either John or Ross had ever seen before and earned maKsimum rspKt.
We lugged and dragged our bikes up the rest of the climb and once over the ridge began the descent of Puddingstone Bank. Wet grass interspersed with random boulders made the descent slippy and you had to take care, and as I picked my way down gingerly, Shortbread overtook me at great speed. I thought to myself “Hmm, he had better be careful, he must be riding well”. Then Shortbread lost his front wheel and stacked it right in front of me. Quality.
The next section of the descent was Birkett’s Leap, a monstrous rocky section resembling some of the trails we have ridden in Spain and this was of equally high quality. Ringpieces buzzing our rear tyres we descended, regrouping at a gate below to discover Big John had punctured, twice. More awesome rockiness of the downward variety and we popped out onto tarmac, then had a food stop at Seatoller, where Techno’s rear tyre popped for no good reason whilst his bike was leaning against a wall.
Next up was one of the climbs that will feature in the FanyLion Elite Road Faction's Fred Whitton Challenge ride in a few months, Honiston Pass. Granny rings were engaged and riders hunched over their handlebars and climbed, and climbed, up to the cattle grid and off road again, descending over grass to the Allerdale Ramble. We were soon rocking again, literally, on more Spain-type trails and onto the descent through Low Hows Wood into Borrowdale was a belter. At the hamlet of Grange we hung a left and offroad again to a good climb where a petrified dog sat rooted to the spot right where I needed to be riding and put me offline and off the climb. Shorts in Winter was climbing well and cleared it, the dog now long gone. As we traversed Skellgill Bank, Ben saw fit to rip his rear derailleur off his bike, and without a spare derailleur hanger (Ben, learn from this mistake) managed to singlespeed his bike and complete the ride back to Keswick, but not before Twin Pin sold him a dummy at a concrete bollard and Ben smashed into it, wrecking his brake hose. Sweet.
Upon our return to the car park Shack had completed his exciting afternoon’s activities and headed for home to calm down, whilst the rest of us packed our bikes and headed to a café for tea, scones and sandwiches before heading our separate ways. It had been yet another superb weekend’s biking in the Lake District, which is surely establishing itself as the Team’s favourite destination for hardcore trails in the best scenery in the UK. Shortbread had organised a superb weekend, with excellent trails (help with route guiding from Big John and Ross: rspkt), good accommodation and superb food & beer: the standard of FanyLion weekends has certainly started off on a high and I have no worries that subsequent weekends will follow in the same vein and the future of Team FanyLion is safe whilst I take time out to raise Jr Hog and become a roadie.
However this was not the end of the weekend, as lucky bleeders Techno and Shortbread stayed an extra day and rode on Monday as well, and here is Shortbread’s email that was waiting for me on Tuesday morning:
"Yesterday's ride - probably the toughest, most technical 20 mile ride I have ever done in Britain. That good basically!!
We began from Stavely following the same road and then damp bridleway we
took for the Lakes Garburn pass ride. After the point where we turned left
we carried on, climbed some more and then did a nice descent which was wet
and soggy at first before turning into a steep rock fest. I have to say I was feeling tired at this point struggling to match Techno's ox like steady pedal strokes! We then were straight onto a rough track, gently climbing at first right into a strong, bitter northerly. The track then deteriorated and steepened making it very hard to ride. We rode bits and pushed bits up until it flattened at a gate. After this the track smoothed out a lot but a look
ahead saw it go crazy steep. We perhaps could have attempted it had we been fresh as traction would not have been an issue but it was to steep! It was fireroad width but continually switchbacked up the hill. We reached the top - The Gatescarth Pass and began the descent to Haweswater. And what a descent
- very Spanish like. Loads of loose rocks, loads of switchbacks and very
steep, all on a track narrower than a fireroad. About 3/4 the way down we
reached a gate and I waited ages for Techno whose front brake pads had
fallen out. I told him to go mega slow which he did and we continued the descent to the Lake. We then had to push up the Nan Bield Pass, heading south back towards Stavely. It was a brutal, technical carry, up a steep rocky slope. After about a 1/3 the way up we reached a small Lake and could see the trail going round it and then appearing to stop. We couldn't believe the track was going straight up in front of us but it was. Another half an hour of sketchy climbing saw us reach the top and we were rewarded with a
fan(y)tastic view of the trail towards Kentmere. The descent was even better than the first one. Slower, as it was steeper, and narrower with tighter switchbacks. Its no exaggeration to describe the trail as like 68 switchbacks. There must have been at least 25 switchbacks, all rideable with a bit of skill and luck before we reached a steep 20 yard rocky pitch. I bottled although Techno told me it was do-able but I didn't feel up to risking it to be honest. After we were down it the trail flattened although it was still downward and turned into amazing rocky and earthy singletrack,
very pedally, and tech in places. We were both amazed at the quality of the trails and spent most of it either stacking hilariously and laughing at the amazing trail we'd found. Eventually we reached tarmac and after another nice bridleway rode the last few miles from Kentmere to Stavely. To our right was Mr Garburn, puny in comparison to what we'd just done and I think we'd have taken it on if we'd had the time as we were so high from the trail we'd done.
I'm feeling pretty tired today and weak from quite a few tumbles but I'm
still in the zone from the ride we did! Took some pics but my camera was
fooling around again so not many came out. Will get them to you this week
sometime.
RSPKT.
Shortbread"
Riders present
Auld Yin
Shortbread
Twin Pin
Hodgson
Techno
Shorts in Winter
Shack (Saturday only)
Enjoyment level
Chilly