The day the trees turned inside out

Well, last night was hilarious!  

We went to see Good Mourning Mrs Brown live at the Leeds Arena with mum and dad. Barely a minute went by when we weren't laughing. It's outrageous (and I do have to add that it was mum (who, when we were growing up, only ever said damn (by mistake (once))) (yes, you did!) that introduced it to us). We've only ever seen a couple of the shows but it may have to be on a DVD box set now.

Today, I wasn't up desperately early but it was a bit of an effort to wake up.  The good thing about the route I'd planned is that the pub doesn't open in Hawes until 12 so I set off just after 8.

Apart from a cycling event heading the other way around Kettlewell, I had many of the roads to myself.  I didn't see another cyclist nor car as I went up Fleet Moss but, true to my new form, my team cars came over the top as I was about to descend, this time this Austin Healey 3000 (thanks to RockArea for sorting out my ID) and three other little vintage cuties rather than my luminous Lotuses from Pendle Hill.  

Did they stop?  Did they wave? 
Did they 'eck!  

I zipped between Hawes and Aysgarth along the back roads, a touch too quickly really as I was enjoying the amazing views and cleared skies but the tailwind gave me little choice and it was far better than heading into it.

But, not to worry, that's what I faced next going up Kidstones.  

Fleet Moss had been draughty but, oof, this was something else - the trees were turning inside out in the battle!  Plenty of time to admire the views then (had I not had my chin almost on my handlebars to reduced the drag and my hands gripped on to stay steady.)  

Am I making it sound OTT?  
Good.  
It was! 

I'd stopped for a photo earlier on the flat part of the valley and a chap with a Fred Whitton shirt headed on by as I was starting off again.  I was quite chuffed.  Not to catch him up (as he was cycling a little faster than me), but he'd come to a standstill as the gale turned evil on the last steep bit.  That gave me the little bit of determination I needed - I wasn't stopping now!  Last time I was at that part, it was on my old bike and two guys in a white van leant out with encouragement as I drooled.  This was the motivation this time.  My grimace must have been a picture but I made it!

I've since discovered that he'd already cycled pretty much the length of my whole route at that point and done 3000 feet of ascent more than me so I do know my place!

I don't have the Fred Whitton route in my legs right now, but maybe one day (and I'd walk Hard Knott Pass at mile 99 (realist not defeatist, I believe!))