Never Pay Attention To McDonald's Directions - 25th April 2011

Newburn to Matfen and back - Approx 25 miles

Easter Bank Holiday Monday, and we'd decided in the pub the previous Saturday to go up to Maften for a change. There's a cafe there, and they do the best scones or something. I'm not one to pass up a cafe, so it was agreed.
Jim's a closet road biker, but he promised to bring the mountain bike so we'd go at the same speed.
"As long as it's quiet roads" I said.

Monday brought some dry weather, not quite the blazing inferno it had been all weekend, so that was good. The bikes were loaded up into the back of Jim's van, and we drove along to Newburn, to the car park near the Big Lamp pub.

Captain Mainwaring ready for duty.

Soon we were rattling along the Wylam Waggon Way. Jim was on his "racing slicks", touring tyres, a bit thinner and a bit smoother. Basically faster. Depressingly faster than my big knobblys actually.
They've resurfaced most of this over the last year, which while better than the dirt track it was before, the tarmac isn't the best quality. Bump, bump, bump. Maybe I need some more padding as well as slick tyres.

Wylam was reached fairly quickly, and we left the Waggon Way there, and headed through the village, and then up Holeyn Hall Rd. 
"Up" being the right word. It's a bit of a climb. Young legs and a weight advantage were in my favour, but I don't like to get too far ahead of the old man, so I hung around for him. As things were to transpire, maybe I should have got a head start.
After a breather, Jim set off at a pace as it was bit flatter now, and crossed the bridge over the A69. It's a dual carriageway, it's the only way to cross it really. I was a bit slow off the mark, so when I got to the the roundabout at the top, no sign of Jim. I guessed a direction, went around a corner and no sign of him, so decided I'd taken the wrong route and went the other way.

Jim's up there somewhere. That hill up ahead looks steeper in real life.

I saw him vanishing off into the distance, just cresting a hill, so at least I was on the right road.
But you can't really pedal fast enough to catch a bike with fast tyres on.
I caught up with him eventually the other side of the Military Road, after he'd finally decided to stop, in fact he was facing towards me.
"Thought you'd had a puncture". Comedy genius.

Rape seed is evil. It stinks.

Well, we ambled along for a bit, or rather Jim ambled, and I pedalled along in much too high a gear, trying to keep up. Tough on the hills.
4 miles later and we arrived in Stamfordham, no stopping though. Jim was on a mission for scones. I was on a mission for more padding.

He did however stop a bit further up ahead when he spied a horse, and our resident Dr Doolittle couldn't resist. He'd seduced it with grass by the time I arrived.

Phwoaar.

It was a gentle slope uphill for another 3 miles or so that brought us into Matfen just after 3pm. And the promise of scones.
Promise that was to be sadly thrown into the cruel pit of despair.

*$#%! 3pm !!!!!

Bastards... missed it by minutes. We weren't the only ones. While we had a sit down a few people stopped by for scones.

Nice place for a Jelly Baby though

Jim's bike and those bloody tyres.

Well, I figured we'd head back the way we came, but no. Off we went out the other end of the village. Ian, our newly "bionic" cyclist chum had told Jim about this lovely route back, so I followed (again), and soon we came to the turn off.
But then Jim decided it wasn't the turn off and we carried on for another mile. Until we came to another road. The Military Road.
Oh well, I figured we'd be on it for a minute or so to the junction up ahead. Jim was already off at pace, so I tagged along. And then he just cycled past the junction and kept going.

We pulled in at the Robin Hood Inn, and I broke out the phone. GPS and Google Maps, very handy. Well, turn off's were ahead but the first was a bit dodgy for getting across the A69, so we carried on. Next one was at the top of Harlow Hill, a nasty steep little climb, but it would take us under the A69, so that was agreed on.
Jim had a lead on me, I was catching him on the hill though. I thought he'd wait at the top, but the traffic queued up behind seemed to distract him as he ignored the turn-off and careered off down the hill at breakneck pace.

Watching Jim ride off into the distance. No swearing. Deep breaths.

Not much choice but to ride on.
4 miles we did on the Military Road. On a Bank Holiday. Grrrrrr.
This riding lark is supposed to be good for my health you know.

Well, I eventually caught him up. He never saw the junction he was supposed to take. Maybe he needs some new specs for cycling, but we turned off at the next one (after consulting the gps and Google Maps again) and we ended up back at the roundabout where I'd taken a wrong turn earlier. Result.


We hurtled back down the hill to Wylam, and despite trailing in Jim's gravity and tyre assisted wake, I still got over 30mph. That was fun. Made up for the earlier slog.


And then back along the Waggon Way to Newburn and the van. Into a bloody headwind.
Despite all that, still came out with an average speed of 11.6mph. 
That explains why my legs are killing me.

Maybe I'll pick the route next weekend.

As I have no kml storage, here's the route. GPS didn't start until Wylam, so add 3 miles on at start. Click for big.

A Quick One Before They Cut It Off - 8th April 2011

Swalwell to Consett and back again along the Derwent Walk
(approximately 24 miles)

Greetings. Someone's still reading this blog? Blimey.
Well, due to getting a new phone which has a camera in it that takes picture bigger than a postage stamp, I thought it was time to dust the cobwebs off the blog and post again.
We also dusted the cobwebs off Jim, for his first ride of the year.
He's a "fair weather cyclist".


I had a rare day off, and Ian was counting down the days till some "surgeon" hacks away at his knee and replaces it with a Lego one. Sort of a last chance to have a pedal.

So, on a sunny Friday afternoon, it was off for a Magical Mystery Tour in Jim's van to the bottom of the Derwent Walk at Swalwell.

Soon rolling along at a steady pace.
For about half a mile.

I'd forgotten to turn the GPS on (for blogging purposes), and Jim needed to fiddle about.

A bar fly adjusting his bar ends.

Peter's And Lee - The Reunion

Not the fastest of starts then, but we managed at least another mile, before stopping at the Nine Arches Viaduct for Jim (Doctor Doolittle) to do a spot of birdwatching.

A Red Kite. In the distance. The far distance.

I call this composition "Two Chancers On a Viaduct"

Two rest stops in the first 15 mins wasn't the frantic pace I'd had in mind when we set off, so I put my foot on the gas a bit, and we started to get somewhere.

As it turns out, old man Jim was suprisingly speedy, what with having his racing slicks on, so we managed to make some decent progress. It is all uphill you know!

We had a quick rest at the old station at Lintz Green, where we gave out some directions to a cyclist from Darlington who wanted to get to Chopwell Woods. Not sure if we're the best ones to ask directions from, but there you go.

It was a pretty warm day in the sun, just nice for cycling, and a bit further on we had a sit down just past Ebchester to take on water, where a scene of horror unfolded.

Schwarzenegger let himself go after Terminator 2

He's an arty bastard is our resident wedding photographer

Jesus F***in' Christ!!!!

Some photos have to be covered up to protect the innocent out there. I have no idea what was going on here, the things you see when you get your camera back.

Perhaps driven on by the horrors just witnessed, we set off again, Ian at a particularly breakneck speed. By the time we got up to the old steel works at Consett, he was long gone in the distance.
I hung back for Jim on the hills, as he's getting on a bit now, and this was his first ride for six months. (He claims)

"I've fallen Vic, and I can't get up"

Not tired at all, just getting going in fact.

When we caught him up, and after Jim had stopped to have a natter to some bloke at an allotment, we eventually rolled up to Hownsgill Tea Rooms, which thankfully was open.

Pot of tea, toasties, some chips, and a plate sized wedge of Banoffee Gateaux and cream. 

Is this the face of a man about to get his leg replaced?

He can look quite normal sometimes

Banoffee Gateaux and Cream - well, it was earlier.

The farm where the tea room is located was obviously in the middle of lambing season. And despite the fact they wouldn't stand still for 5 minutes, a photo was taken.

They'll have eaten it by now.

Well, they have to close sometime, so we had to get on the bikes again eventually.

At least it's downhill most of the way back, and we raced along.

Me and Ian had a little bit of a race the last 2 miles, full tilt. Talk about knackered. But it was Ian's last fling for a while. Mind, I wasn't going to let "Competative Ian" win. That wouldn't do, and it didn't matter if he broke something on the knee as they were bunging a new one in. Might as well get a last go out of it.

We was sweating buckets when we arrived back at the transport.

Jim arrived 5 mins later.

Sweaty chaps. Ian is still distorting the world around him.

The Winnaaaar!

So, a decent ride out for Ian's last hurrah. Who knows when the Bionic Man will get back out on the bike? I might have to post a blog or two just to keep the world informed.

I have a kml file of the route, but the internet is being evil and my hosting has died a bit since the last time I used it. I'll get around to it.

Not The Great Light Test - 24th January 2010

Due to the rather poor weather for the last 2 months, it's been a bit quiet on the bike front in general. Either snow or work or laziness has meant virtually nothing cycling wise. Ian has been out and about during the week, but that's it.
So, after agreeing it all in the pub the night before, the rust was scraped off the bikes and they were loaded up into the car and off it was to the Derwent Walk. Nice and gentle to start with. I mean, it was November last time the wheels turned.
Ian hadn't rang Jim like he'd said he would, although with hindsight he'd have fallen off anyway, and Chris had his daughter's birthday party to attend so we can let them off.

Lots of ice in the car park wasn't a good sign, but it did clear once we were underway, just the occasional patch of slushy ice across the track, but nothing that couldn't be ridden around.

Rowlands Gill approaching, and Ian was working up a right sweat and finding it very hard work. I had told him his back was a bit flat, but I think he misheard and took it as an insult.

Anyway, he eventually decided to stop and bung some air into the back tyre, and it seemed much better after that.

Another few miles and it was time for a chocolate break, and off we went again, for about 10 yards before Ian states the obvious and says he's got a puncture. So we stop and I break out the rubbish cameraphone.


Ian hard at work sorting out his puncture. Actually, it was a double puncture, a couple of hawthorns being responsible.
A "new" tube was bunged in.


See. He's much happier now. I think he enjoys a getting covered in oil.

So, with a freshly pumped up tyre it was off again, along an increasingly ice covered track.
By the time we got to Ebchester Station, it was getting pretty bad. It wasn't just slush, it was that hard packed ice which had melted and frozen a few times. Glassy, and very very slippery.


Ian in a contemplative mood just past the Whinny Lane crossing beyond Ebchester

Well, it got to the point where we weren't going to make the cafe at Hownsgill before they shut at 4pm, and I wasn't going to risk it on that ice, especially coming back in the dark, no matter how good the new lights were.




He was trying to show me up for chickening out, but he was wobbling a lot.
No grip on the hills.

And so with that, we turned back and meandered back down the line towards Swalwell.
Once again, we stopped at Rowlands Gill for Ian to pump some more air into his back tyre. Not having much luck with that, but it lasted long enough to get back to the car before dark, and so the lights remained untested. We'll have a more indepth report next time out. Maybe.
Still, we'd done 18 miles, and it was a pretty mucky slog for quite a bit of it, so that counts for something.

National Cycle Route 7 - Gatehouse to The Black Horse

Thursday 8th October 2009: Day 3
Little Salkeld to Gateshead - 70 miles approx
203 miles running total

"Well, after a reasonable night's kip, it was an early breakfast and out onto the road by 10am, which was quite impressive for us. All rather hilly to start with and then after only 2 miles, we find our way blocked by a dug up road and a spot of roadworks.
So we headed towards Gamblesby before rejoining the original road near Renwick. Knew I bought those Sustrans maps for a reason.
And then the climbing started.


We were up at about 1000ft at this point, and Mr McDonald was suffering.


Suffering with a smile though.


Luckily, the weather was decent, you could see for miles. And speaking of which, you can see the cafe on the top of Hartside over on the left of this picture, miles away. I'm not sure that helped really. It looked a long way, all of it uphill.


So while I breezed up the hills effortlessly*, Ian took a bit longer, though it did mean a few lovely photos of him trundling up another steep bit. And this was a steep bit.

* Ok, so perhaps there was a little effort involved.

On and on up towards Hartside summit, on a very twisty road, but it was a lot easier than the off-road option. And then a spot of rather uninspiring nosh in the cafe just after midday. The view was great though. Probably should have taken a picture. We did remember to pose by the sign as is customary, though Mr McDonald wanted to get going.


Look, here he is the happy little camper. I think he needed the toilet again.


And he's our dashing hero, looking dashing. It was bloody cold up there. Bit of a breeze you know.
So, despite the cold, there was a very nice downhill section to enjoy afterwards, Ian went racing off at about 90mph as usual, too fast for pictures, but we reached Garrigill in about 45 minutes.


This is the road out of Garrigill. Well, less of a road and more the side of a cliff. Look at my feet to get some idea of the angle. You could hardly stand. The next 250 yards were the steepest bit so far by a long way. We both got about about 75 yards, though of course I stopped so as not to embarrass Ian. We walked for a bit. Slowly.


Half an hour later, and we're ploughing on up another long stretch of hill. Flinty Fell it's called, though we were calling it something else. You can just make out Hartside Cafe on the horizon if you zoom in above his head.


Full of energy and raring to go. (Well, I had been waiting for him to catch up for about 10 minutes)

So, after what seemed like forever, we made it to the top, and after a quick break, it was off down the steep hill into Nenthead.
Ian as usual went tearing off at about 40mph, "see you at the bottom" and all that, and he was long out of sight when for some unknown reason, and with a very loud bang, my front tyre's inner tube burst.
Must have been doing about 25mph at the time, and things went very wobbly for a few yards, but luckily the tyre stayed on the rim and I managed to stop in the vertical position.
Not the easiest place to fix a puncture due to the severe incline, so I had to wheel the bike down the hill which wasn't half tough on the legs, so it took about 10 minutes to get down into the vilage. At which point I saw Ian, clearly in a hurry to see why I was taking so long. Or not.
Well, we changed the shredded inner tube with a new one, Ian went for a dump again, and we retired to the village shop for a cup of coffee and some food.


Puncture fixed. Still alive.


You can see the hill where the tyre had gone, just up on the horizon there by the telegraph poles.

Once the nerves had settled and the hands weren't shaking quite as much, it was getting on for 4pm, which meant the daylight wasn't going to last all the way home. In fact we'd probably only done about a third of the required miles for the day. Time to get moving.
Another very steep hill out of Nenthead on the road, and we made it with a certain degree of jubilation to the highest point on the route, at 2000ft


It's all downhill from here Ian*

*lies


Quite a view from up there. And into Northumberland too. That's like the next county along from home really, isn't it?


A nice view.


Not such a nice view. Can't tell if that's a grimace or a smile.


Now, that's a smile. Probably a Sound Of Music moment or something.

So on we pressed, grateful that we hadn't opted to spend the previous night at Allenheads like we'd originally planned. I mean, we still hadn't reached it and we'd been cycling for 6 hours that day already.
Can't say I was too keen on going fast on the downhill sections after the blowout at Nenthead, but Ian will tell you I don't go fast downhill anyway.
Allenheads was reached just before 5pm, toilet stops of course, and then after the steep climb out of the village we stopped at Currick summit around 5.20pm for a last photo before the daylight went.


I don't like the way he's winking in the background.


It's the border of County Durham you know...

Well, after that, there was a nice downhill stretch past the old mine workings, where Ian managed to fall off when he stopped and forgot to release his foot pedals. I missed that, which was a touch disappointing.
We got into Rookhope and decided to take the "easier" route along the road to Stanhope and then up to the Waskerly Way. Apart from adding about 4 miles to the route, it also added Crawleyside Bank as well. Bad idea.
We pushed it most of the way up, and it was totally dark by the time we reached the top. We'd not eaten enough really, and I don't have the reserves to dig into like Ian, so I was exhausted by the time we reached Parkhead Station around 7.15pm.
I've always liked the place, but it was especially wonderful this time.

The best toasties ever made were eaten, along with some carrot cake too, and together with a hot drink and a rest, we were ready to set off again about 8pm.
It was pitch dark on the moors, and bitingly cold too, with the thermometer on the bike computer showing 0°C, but we kept going. Ian had a much brighter light, so he was racing away like he does on the downhill bits, so I had to keep reigning him in as I couldn't see that far.
He grumbled a bit at my slow speed, but we made it down the old railway line to Birtley at 10.35pm without killing each other. By this time, we were both pretty numb with the cold, as we'd been freewheeling most of the previous 2 hours.

Well, the last bit from Birtley saw us get a bit of a second wind. Probably just to warm up. Don't think we've ever done it so quickly. Those toasties are clearly performance-enhancing.
The Black Horse was reached, and at 10.59pm, I banged on the window and scared a few of the locals. We'd done it!


See. We even got back in time to get served.


Here, I show Ian how many days he should take to cycle the route next time.

Stats for the 3 Day trip:
Total Mileage: 203.6 miles
Total Time Cycling: 21hrs 04mins 30secs
Dunk's Max Speed was 32.8mph - Ian's was considerably faster, but he's mad.
Average Speed of 9.6mph

And that's it. I think we'll have to do another one in 2010.

I'll leave you with this hideous image found on the camera.

Could have been a lot worse I suppose.

I'll post the Google Earth file sometime before the end of the year with the last day's route on.

More Route 7 in Google Earth

Well, it's only taken a month. Some of us have to work now you know.
Anyway, you can look at the path of Day 2 of the epic Route 7 trip in Google Earth, with the location of the photos and some extra info snippets in there too.

• View Day 2 of the route in Google Earth