The Last Yard

The first thing to say is that Forrest is becoming a very fit and competent cyclist. His bike-handling skills have improved massively in the last year. He bought his bike second-hand on eBay and it's not really geared to handle the very steep climbs of the Dales. For that reason, naturally enough, I decided to take him straight up Park Rash as it has the steepest ramp of them all. But it's at the bottom of the climb and he managed fine by zig-zagging up the worst section. I struggled big-time, crawling up despite a far more appropriately-sized big chainring. Even fresh, I'm not able to generate the power any more, which is fine. I don't suppose many can at such an ancient age! 

We rolled on and I enjoyed leading Forrest down the rollercoaster towards Leyburn, where we turned off to climb Redmire, a relatively sedate climb in comparison to the first, and then down to Swaledale for a pit-stop at the Dales Bike Centre in Fremington - just before Reeth - surely home to the best range of cakes in Yorkshire, if not the whole country. They make great coffee too. Setting off again, not quite halfway in distance, I was already beginning to feel weary. I played the 'Old Dad' card and settled for following my son's wheel. We set a decent pace along the length of Swaledale before I was very happy to drop off and let him go up Buttertubs at his own much faster speed. It was then a rapid descent into Hawes and a bit of refuelling with gels before the Big One. It's a long time since I've been up Fleet Moss with so much climbing in my legs. Forrest had some online business to attend to on his phone so he gave me a start. It was better waiting in the Dale rather than on the top of the moor. The cloud was closing in with the merest hint of drizzle. It wasn't necessarily unwelcome. 

I'll be honest. I'd forgotten how hard this climb is from Hawes on fatigued legs. The ramps get progressively steeper as you get higher. I was far, far into the red zone at the end, further than I think I can ever remember being before. Once at the top I wobbled across the road to park the bike up and check where Forrest was. He was only twenty yards behind me, but going so slowly I had plenty of time to get my camera out. He was equally far into the red zone. He checked later to let me know that his heart-rate had reached 186 on that last section. I said that I doubted I could get anywhere near that. Later, I found out that my own had maxed out at 188! I'm not sure how accurate that is but I can believe it. I'm kind of hoping I never have to go that deep again.

From the top of Fleet Moss it always feels like it should be a coast home, and it was for the most part, in other words, except for the 'little' bumps in the road. Forrest nursed me back to a bit beyond Burnsall where it made more sense to let him go on. I could then tootle home at my own speed. Backing off the pace a bit, plus some more refuelling, meant my legs picked up in the last ten miles. I finished with some energy left even if the power was gone. My biggest problem proved to be my stomach, complaining at the number of gels I'd got through. Nutrition is the key to finishing these days in good shape and this is where I'm learning from Forrest. I've never taken it very seriously before.

The distance clicked past 100 miles on the last hill home and I completed the ride feeling very proud of myself for still being able to get around these epic routes to Swaledale. The bike computer gave me 10,000 ft of climbing. That's possibly exaggerated (Forrest got a bit less on his watch) but it certainly felt right. My legs are telling me so.