April 10th
Monsal Trail by Brompton.
I arranged with Twiddler the Younger to collect him by car so he could take his new full suspension mountain bike to the Monsal Trail. I’d decided to bring my Brompton to see how it fared on the trail. Would have preferred the tourer, if I could have got two full size bikes in the car without extensive dismantling.
The weather today was one of extremes. Sunshine followed by torrential rain which cleared to give sun again. We pondered the wisdom of proceeding with the trip but decided to take it as it came.
Rolling over the hills to Buxton and beyond, the rain came down in sheets, flowing down the hill roads in streams and torrents. Random pools collected in the dips. Beyond Buxton the constrained Wye hurried excitably downhill between its banks. In one direction the sun shone, in another, dark tendrils of cloud tumbled over the summits. Up and down the angled hills the road ran, alternatively soaked and sunlit.
We arrived at Bakewell during a dry phase, parked up in Bakewell station car park and unloaded the bikes. We’d assumed that the pay and display would be cashless as in town centre car parks but this one was coins only. Then followed a comedic turning out of pockets and searching the cubbies and crannies of the car for random coins to give us a decent time span on the trail. We scraped up enough for 2 hours. Not ideal, but potentially do-able if we didn’t stop for a break or to look at things. Bakewell old station is some way out of town, so short of losing maybe an hour finding a place to park in town, a cash machine, then a shop to get some change, this was the least worst solution.
So, having shot ourselves in the foot from the start, we set off left from Bakewell uphill into a capricious head wind. The former line climbs steeply in railway terms towards Buxton. It’s not actually very much of a gradient but it is continuous, and combined with the head wind, becomes wearing. For Twiddler the Younger his high spec MTB is vastly over specced for this modest trail.
For myself, the Brompton, though a very competent small wheeled folding all-rounder, rolled very well, but the narrow high pressure tyres transmitted a lot of trail buzz despite the suspension. My hands soon became sore, then numb. Since slowing down was not an option, I endured it. It was quite noticeable how on the smooth tarmac surface inside the tunnels speed and comfort increased.
The small wheels were suffering some drag due to the micro unevenness of the surface which they didn’t on tarmac. I don’t recall having this experience with my old Viking Safari which had 20” wheels but lower pressure tyres and no suspension. It didn’t have the capacity of the Brompton for a good turn of speed when the circumstances were right, though, so it’s swings and roundabouts, I suppose.
There were intermittent crowds of people, family groups, dogs, kids on bikes, serious and leisurely cyclists, hikers of all ages interspersed with long stretches of open space. The unpredictable weather on this Easter Monday hadn’t deterred them.
We passed through the next station, Hassop, where most of the amenities at this end of the line are situated. No cake stop on the way back today, I feared.
Another station which was apparently a private house, then another platform before plunging into Headstone tunnel. The tarmac surface within gave easy rolling and the gradient levelled temporarily. At the exit I stopped to manually change the chain to the lower range. Last year I’d fitted a smaller chainring inside the big ring, and due to the wide range of chain tensioning allowed by the folding design, found it worked very well as long as too many changes weren’t needed in a short space of time.
As I was getting going again a crowd of cyclists and walkers went past downhill and amongst them was someone on a SWB recumbent bike. My fourth sighting in three years. My first this year. As with my previous recumbent sightings it was a glimpse in passing, gone in a flash. That makes two trikes, two bikes.
We trundled on, watching the clock. When loading the Brompton in the car earlier I’d caught the brittle plastic of my aftermarket Garmin mount on something and snapped it. Thus I didn’t have the Garmin with me, so I wasn’t able to keep an eye on my speed. Twiddler the Younger had enough gizmos on his phone to keep any statistician satisfied so he updated me from time to time. We anticipated much better progress on the way back to Bakewell so we stretched the turn back point as far as we could against the risk of a zealous car park attendant slapping a parking fine on the car for overstaying the ticket.
We had passed through three lit tunnels, the Headstone tunnel, then over numerous bridges and viaducts before entering in short order Cressbrook and Litton tunnels before climbing up a steeper pitch. It levelled out then went downhill for a way. I noticed that some cyclists were walking their bikes up here. There’s hope for me yet! Soon we reached the impressive viaducts at Millers Dale, another old station where there are refreshment facilities.
A moody shot of me entering the Cressbrook tunnel.
Soon after this, for me at least, time ran out and I had to consider turning back. For Twiddler the Younger, who is fitter and faster, there was still time. He elected to continue the couple of miles to the end of the trail, and would catch me up on the way back. On he went, and back I went. Past Millers Dale, with its tempting cafe, up the slight gradient, then up on to the high gear range large chainring. With the benefit of the downhill trend and following wind progress was good. The cost/benefit split was aargh! My tingling hands! Versus the sensation of easy speed. I kept on rolling, really feeling the benefit of the smooth tarmac in the lit Litton tunnel, then the all too short stretch of tarmac between it and Cressbrook tunnel, then once out of that one back on to the damp gritty trail surface. The small wheels spinning fast were spraying grit into the mudguards which gathered round the brakes. Some of it dispersed when on tarmac then began to build up again once back on the looser surface of the trail. A longish stretch in the open before Headstone Tunnel and its smooth surface again before the final stretch to Bakewell. Had it been dry, then no doubt overall progress would have been faster.
Soon afterwards I had company again. We studiously ignored the attractions of Hassop station and arrived at Bakewell on time.
I could understand his mudguardless bike having generously sprayed itself and himself with grit but the Brompton was little better. Fortunately we had a water sprayer in the car to get the worst off.
We’d had a few spots of rain while riding the route but miraculously remained dry. However on the way back the heavens opened again and it was like driving through a car wash until we left the Peak District behind.
Distance -me, 13.66 miles (bikehike), him, 16.55. Speed -unknown Max -unknown. Average -me, 6.83, him, 8.3.
Height readings look extremely optimistic. Plotting the rail route through tunnels on Bikehike probably adds on the height of the hill above.
Total Ascent: | 1759 | ft | |
| Total Descent: | 1757 | ft | |
| Start Elevation: | 516 | ft | |
| End Elevation: | 518 | ft | |
| Min Elevation: | 497 | ft | |
| Max Elevation: | 927 | ft | |
257.5 ft per mile is totally bonkers.
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