Nuts to Ninebanks.

                Nuts to Ninebanks was always going to be tough. The very nature of the place lies at the heart of a landscape where weakness feeds the strong. Across the high Pennine fells, the winds flatten anything that dares to stand tall. The ground lays sodden and only the hardiest heathers and bog grasses are given privilege of life. A landscape steeped in geological turmoil, the fortunes and failings of savages and Romans alike. A harsh place indeed.

Nestled beneath the high ground lie valleys and drains where shelter provides relief. Wooded copses and farms follow gurgling streams and rivers. Railways, roads and culture, past and present reside together in these havens. Beauty in abundance, if you're tough enough to look.

Leaving the cityscape behind us, we headed north in our vehicles and began our ride from Mankinholes in the shadow of Stoodley Pike. The terrain is creased and the valleys steep. Whilst there is promise of sunshine, the north westerly wind blows hard and sends wisps of cloud burst across the fells and moors.

Ten hardy men took to the sides and tops of Stansfield Fell. The wind pounded us as we past the giant wind turbines lined up alongside the Long Causeway. Skirting to the east of Burnley, the hills are not too long, but steep and frequent. By the time we passed through Trawden to begin the Climb of Elslack Moor, we had already battled half a dozen winding ascents.

At Gargarve we took on refreshment at the Dalesman cafe. The sun shone and spirits were high. We had only covered 30 miles.

Heading north and gently ascending up Wharfedale, we made good time through Kettlewell and Buckden. Stunning Langstrothdale with the river falling over near perfect limestone steps is a joy in the sunshine. At Deepdale we crossed the river and began the tough climb to the head of Fleet Moss.

I had expected the blossoming climbing legs of Phil Bridge to sail away at this point, or the strong man that is Jason Pickford to leave us all for dead, but it was Hugh Joseph who turned the screw. No sharp accelerations or jumping around, just quality, strength sapping pace. For somebody new to cycling only in recent years, progression has been quietly consistent. Lets hope he's peaked.

The drop into Hawes was hampered by the wind and saw disappointing speeds fall short of 60mph. Never mind, there's always next time.

Buttertubs saw Hugh once again dominant at the front. A force to be reckoned with as the distance under our belts was beginning to take its toll. Robin was in trouble. Despite his heroic efforts during the previous months Southport ride, his legs were now fading fast. By the time we hit Tan Hill, the group had split. Will, Chris and Harry had gone ahead. The rest of us, Greg in particular, tried to nurture Robin to the summit.

A hail storm battered us with bullets of ice and the wind blew fiercely. This was Ted Moult country and it wasn't about to disappoint. At the summit I managed to arrange some transport for Robin. By the time I'd talked the lady into helping and got her back down to where Robin was, it was hardly worth the effort, but I think he appreciated a little respite from the savage terrain.

More hail blasted us across the top of the fells with the Lake District so clear and the Eden valley so far down below. By the time we hit Brough it was getting late.

We met up with the other group in the local shop. Jim, Neil, Dave and Mike. I'd hoped to have caught them sooner but the day was slowly going tits up. It was being further hampered by the soft and meek fighting for a microwaved pie which further held us up.

From Brough, Mike, Hugh, Greg and Robin headed back to Hawes to return home. I know Robin had wanted to get to Ninebanks and complete the trip, but the nature of the remaining terrain and the hours of daylight available to us made this an impossible task on a bicycle. It was a valiant effort from Robin but he was a dead man. Many thanks to Mike for sorting out the transport to and from Hawes.

It's another 4 miles of climbing out of Brough on the road over to Middleton in Teesdale. Progress was slow. From Middleton it's 15 miles of ascent up Teesdale and the wind was not making life easy. By the time we hit the Nenthead turn and the final climb before our dinner, forward motion was on its arse. Neil King was highly upset and a physical mess. I was once again a tosser, and quite rightly so. By the time we sat down for dinner it was nearly 8pm. The service was slow and by the time we left for the final 9 miles to the hostel, it was well and truly dark. It was a good job Jim Wild was there to keep us all smiling.

It was an eerie ride through the darkened landscape with moonlight being bright enough to light the way. By the time we reached the hostel it was gone 10pm. I showered, wiped myself down with my tea towel and sunk into a deep, Beechams induced lem sip dreamscape.

Ninebanks is a lovely hostel and Pauline is a very friendly and accommodating warden. She cooked us a good breakfast and there was some good spirits at the breakfast table. The scene outside was grey and the wind was blowing. Laugh now whilst you still can.

No sooner than we'd set off, the rain began to fall. The climbing begins in an instant and the four mile ascent is hampered by a fierce headwind. The King is in trouble straight away. Mike and I shepherd the weakened individual back to the group who kindly wait, but it's not a good sign so early on.

Through Alston and its another 5 miles of climbing all of the way to the top of Hartside. It's not a steep ascent but the wind is a savage dog and the rain is relentless. Mike turns the screw and my back sinks into spasms of pain. The cloud is thick and around every corner there is yet more suffering and toil.

The descent to Memlmerby has to be pedalled down because the wind is so strong. Only on its lower slopes do our clocks begin to register speeds above 20mph.

The cafe at Melmerby provides coffee and cake. It's only 18 miles into the ride. By the time Neil catches up, he's already made the decision that we'd just discussed. Whilst the group continued across the lower slopes of a cloud enshrouded Cross Fell, Neil sensibly made his way to Penrith for a lift home.

The roads to Kirkby Stephen are not exactly flat but the rolling terrain never really gains any height. Will injects some pace at the front and still reeling from the effort of Hartside, I am hanging on for dear life. Jim Wild knows what he's got to do and how best to enjoy it. He says his goodbyes and waves us on.

It's 10 miles of climbing up to Garsdale head. Dave Burton is in trouble. Going backwards at every bump and incapable of holding a steady rhythm. The rain is coming in thick now and as we follow the train tracks up to the summit, the wind is like a wall of ice, chilling us to the core.

The Moorcock Inn provides refuge and bowls of soup. Outside the rain is falling sideways in sheets of white spray. The wind groans around every corner stone and the lycra clad figures of our group cluster around the few warm radiators that are available. We are not at half distance yet.

Dave does the right thing and arranged transport home. Despite a brilliant effort throughgout the weekend from "Ar" Chris, he to will go home by car. The six of us now remaining, head out into the teeth of the hostilities that lie outside.

A steep 2 mile ascent takes us high into fast moving clouds over Galloway Gate. The descent into Cowgill is treacherous. The stunning railway viaducts across the head of Dentdale are some distraction before the next gruelling test to Newby Head and the main road.

The road to Ribblehead is very hard. The wind is at full force and we were spitting out mouthfuls of water as the rain did its utmost to drown us. Ribblehead wasn't visible through the mist as we turned south toward Settle. The road almost seemed easier for a while and we picked up some pace passing through Horton in Ribblesdale and Stainforth.

Almost 3 miles of climbing onto Scosthrop Moor to the east of Settle served to warm us up more than anything else. Dressed in spring bike riding attire was taking its toll. Mike Turner was uncontrollably shivering whilst Phil was regretting having ignored his fathers suggestion from the previous day of taking the better cape. Fortunately for myself, I remained at a comfortable temperature clad in my near oilskin like Karrimor jacket. For sure, it doesn't fold up like a racing cape, but how luxurious it becomes when you really need it.

Once we'd passed through Gargrave for the second time in as many days, we were close to the end by only 30miles. The wearing down process of the days events were really evident from this point and spirits were almost drowned.

As it had done on occasions in the past, the shop at Trawden provided refreshment for the final haul. We traversed the high ground around Widdop reservoir in thick mist and rain before plummeting down the wet descent into Hebden Bridge. By the time we turned for Mankinholes, darkness was nearly upon us. The final climb was tough but heavenly pleasure before the end.

It was a tough ride home, but there was something very satisfying in the pleasure that one takes from enduring the elements. Scott of the Antarctic never had the option to ring for help and bail out, but I doubt he would have done anyway.

Well done to Jason, Mike T, Phil and Harry on conquering something a little tougher than I had originally envisaged. Will made a particularly grand effort on his touring steed. That beast has full on 1mm gauge oversize steel tubes in its frame and runs on 37mm tractor grip tyres. A god like effort.

Sunday May 3rd. 126 miles, 9hrs 7mins riding time. Average speed, 13.8mph. Max speed down Fleet Moss, 54mph.

Monday May 4th. 116 miles, 8hrs 42mins riding time. Average speed, 13.3mph.

Riley Note. Despite being unwell with a bad chest and a cold, it was brilliant. I particularly enjoyed the second half of the run home after lunch at the Moorcock. Staying warm made all the difference and kept me going all of the way to the end. I can't wait to do it again.

Lazy Phil Note. Despite being perfectly well before the ride i now have a bad chest and cold.  While i didnt have the luxury of staying warm on the second half of the run, this only served to make it even more challenging and epic for an ultimately more enjoyable experience!  Cant wait to do it again during the monster.

Will, note to self, When in work early following day don't show signs of pain and fatigue when shane is around! The advice given was "your in the business of pain, deal with it". Thanks all for a great ride, only made better with the company in which i did it, one to remember.