Teide II - Cycling

The lightest, most expensive cycle I've ever ridden by some considerable margin.

So, been a while since I last posted anything hasn't it.  It's not that I haven't been doing anything, but more a question of too busy / lazy to actually blog about it.  Better late than never then I suppose, here then is the highlight, at least in terms of solo travelling type stuff, of my second trip to Tenerife of the year.  There was also a fair amount of lazing around by the pool, eating tapas and so forth, no need to document that in detail though.  Last time I was here I hiked to the top of the volcanic peak of El Teide - but did feel a little guilty in that I started from some 2380m above sea level.  One day I will hopefully do a multi-day hike to reach the summit from the coast, but I've only got a day to spare now, therefore the plan is to cycle.  The island is in fact something of a mecca for cyclists, for instance Sir Bradley Wiggins trained here, and so it is easy enough to find a hire shop.  I end up with a very impressive carbon fibre machine, weighing a whole seven kilos, for a mere 30 euros.  A quick change into my lycra (yes, I'm a MOMIL), and I am off up the mountain, starting from the seafront at Costa Adeje.

Despite the route being a continuous uphill slog right from the start, I make steady progress.  This really is an amazing bike, light as a feather and geared so that even up the steeper slopes I'm not having to fight too hard, and indeed I maintain sufficient speed such that the blazing sunshine isn't much of a problem thanks to the wind in my face.  I am getting through my water mind you, good thing the bike came with a couple of bottles.  Cars and coaches take care when passing me, I guess they are used to crazy cyclists up here... before long I'm at La Camella, 1000ft up, and not feeling too bad.

Into the corona forestal above Vilaflor.

The next three miles to Arona, however, prove a bit more challenging.  There's another 1000ft of ascent, the grade remaining pretty constant - i.e. steep.  By the time I get there I am feeling pretty shattered and am low on water, so I halt at a garage and buy some more, plus a substantial amount of sugary sweets.  While I am gathering my strength a German comes up and asks where I hired the bike, he seems a bit disappointed to learn that it was down by the coast... for my part, I'm beginning to have doubts about getting very high up this mountain, still, at least it will be easy to get down again.  My next milestone is Vilaflor - seven miles away, and fully 4500 feet above sea level.  It's something of a slog to get there to say the least, but, I am encouraged to find that while this certainly isn't easy, I am still doing it - at 1pm I reach Vilaflor, without having to get off and push at all.  From here I have another seven miles or so to reach the edge of the caldera, at around 7200 feet, it does seem almost possible.

The ignominious end of the uphill cycle.

One problem, I've arranged to meet my brother, who is driving up with his family, at 3pm, the plan being to go up the gondola together - that being pretty much as high as you can get on a bike at 7500 feet or so.  The other problem is that it is becoming progressively harder to cycle... it is pleasant here in the corona forestal, but there isn't a great deal of oxygen, and increasingly I'm having to take breaks to get my breath.  In the event I get to around 6000 feet before Dan catches me up in his car, not bad but nonetheless a fail.  The bike goes into the boot and we drive off to get the gondola, which is rather fun in itself, and there is quite a lot of snow at the top at this time of year.  Time is getting on, and I realise that even without the 'meeting brother' thing I was never going to get up to the gondola station and back before the bike shop closes at 6pm.  As it is I get a lift as far as Arona before freewheeling in a scary, but exhilirating fashion back to the coast.  So - an unsuccessful attempt this one, I shall have to try again - and start a bit earlier - some other time.

El Teide - at least I still got up it, albeit by car and gondola.

Peak District Déja Vu, Day 5

Kedleston Park.

Last day then, and it is a short one at only thirteen miles.  Turns out this is no bad thing as the first footpath I try to find from the campsite eludes me totally, and I find myself wandering around the extensive gardens of somebody's house looking for it.  My GPS tells me I should be the other side of a stream, and after the fun I had in a similar situation two years back, I give up and head back to the road, planning to circle around.  Then a 4x4 emerges from the gate behind me and pulls alongside, and I brace myself for a telling off - but instead, the nice chap points me to just where the path was hiding, 'between the two ponds'.  Onwards then, through more farmland, although I do manage to go the wrong way again... not too far though.

The Joiners Arms - good ploughmans lunch.

Some poor route planning means I have a couple of miles along a surprisingly busy road, and it is a real relief to leave it to enter another country estate, this time the National Trust owned Kedleston Park.  I've been here a couple of times before for the Bearded Theory music festival - it is rather quieter now.  From here a little more road and then some welcome footpath takes me to the Joiners Arms for lunch.

I continue to take advantage of past landscaping by the landed gentry, this time walking through Allestree Park which is now maintained by Derby council, and rather charming it is too.  From here I return to the Derwent, grown rather larger since I last saw it a few days ago.  The river takes me all the way into Derby, past the fascinating Darley Abbey Mills, and through numerous parks.  I reach the vicinity of the station, and have the good luck to find a beer festival going at the Brunswick Arms, what better way to finish the walk.  It has been a good one, not a drop of rain, nor a single blister... shame I have to go back to work tomorrow really.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Peak District Déja Vu, Day 4

I walk out of the campsite and straight onto the Tissington Trail, also an old railway line, and another childhood memory, this time of me and the family rattling along on ancient bicycles.  The Trail leads to Ashbourne, where I do plan to be later, but my route is a little longer, so I climb away from the Trail to the West.

Cottage in need of restoration on the Okeover estate.

In fact soon I am crossing the Dove into Staffordshire, whose footpaths are as little used as I recall from last time.  Still, it's pleasant walking through the rolling hills - seems a popular area with the landed gentry too, I pass through a couple of estates.  Then back to the Tissington Trail and into Ashbourne, via an impressive tunnel.

I eat my lunch in a field, the stilton I got in Hartington yesterday going nicely with some fresh bread.  Then out of the National Park... actually it makes a nice change, I walk through woods and then wetland, thankfully the path consists of wooden decking here.  Then a few miles of fields, and finally some road to reach the campsite.  Then even more road to the Tiger Inn, worth it though for some excellent sea bream and cheesecake.

Ashbourne tunnel.  Complete with sound effects evoking long gone steam trains.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Peak District Déja Vu, Day 3

On the footpath out of Hartington.

I'm breaking new ground this morning, thanks to the minor disaster two years ago I didn't do this bit of the route... turns out to be a pleasant mile or two on the Limestone Way, then I'm back on familiar territory, the High Peak Trail, one of two trails around these parts following old railway lines.

A few miles on and I leave the Trail and road walk a mile or two into Hartington, famous for its stilton, and a well of childhood memories for me.  The footpath I take out of the village is particularly evocative, I can almost see my former self dashing along, with my mother, father and brother following me.

Before long I join the river Dove, which I follow through Wolfcote Dale, Beresford Dale and Milldale.  Then just as Dovedale itself starts at the famous stepping stones I leave the river and take some little used footpaths to the campsite for the night.  I've made excellent time along the river, it is only 5pm, gives me time to have a shower and do a bit of laundry... shame the pub is a mile away though.

Following the Dove.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Peak District Déja Vu, Day 2

Back at the Old Nag's Head once again.

Thursday morning and I head north onto the lower slopes of Kinder, from here it's not far to Edale for an early lunch.  I have a pint at the Nag's Head, and a wistful glance at the start of the Pennine Way before heading off
south.

I climb up Mam Tor, or Mother's Hill as the information sign somewhat prudishly has it.  Then I follow the Pennine Bridleway and Limestone Way for quite a few miles, eventually reaching Miller's Dale.  Of course I have to climb down into it, then a steep ascent of the other side brings me to the Waterloo Hotel.

This is where things went wrong two years ago, when I arrived to find the pub shut.  This time I've been organised and phoned in advance, and so am able to enjoy some dinner and a beer or three by the peat fire, before staggering the ten yards to my tent.

Paragliders above Mam Tor.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Peak District Déja Vu, Day 1

Sausages in waiting.

Yes, I'm repeating myself again... well, as it happens I've been doing this bloggery for two years, so a good way to celebrate is to revisit the first trip I wrote about.  Nice to get back to Sheffield too, has been too long since I had a pint in the Sheaf View.

So, on a Wednesday morning I set out through the city streets, and walk a couple of miles beside the solid, stone built houses.  Then into parkland alongside Porter Brook, which leads me up past a series of mill ponds, remnants of cottage industry here over two hundred years ago.  Soon enough I reach open moorland, and feel something of a weight lift as I tramp along... think I needed to get away for a bit.  Mind you it is still nice to find some home comfort at the Fox House a few miles later.

Misty moor.

After lunch I strike out over the moors, which seem quite desolate on this misty day.  Warm enough anyway... To my annoyance my camera is struggling with the new SD card I've put in it - well, I suppose I do already have photos of this route.

I dip down into the Derwent Valley and follow the river for a few miles, then face the first proper climb of the trip, Smelting Hill.  It's not too bad, still I feel I've done a proper day's work on reaching Hope.  Time to eat absurd amounts of pork - feel slightly guilty having passed at least four pigs over the course of the day.

Hiking along the Derwent.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

North Downs Way, Part 4

Apples ready for picking.

What, you thought I'd forgotten about this?  Not so, I have just been a bit busy.  Summer is drawing to an end though, so I've resolved to finish the thing in one four day block - around sixty-five miles of Way remain, plus ten or so to and from pubs and hotels.  Again I am joined by Sarah and Stuart, the three of us meeting up on the train to Charing.  We are quickly back on the Way, and find it easy going for most of the morning.  Eventually we find a hill, just before lunch at Chilham.  The afternoon shows why Kent is known as the garden of England, we pass many orchards, and indeed Polish apple pickers.  But before long we're in Canterbury, there to meet more friends, Clare and Dylan.  Much beer and Chinese food ensues.

Historic Canterbury.

We have Dylan and Clare along for the walk on the Saturday morning, so quite a group walk out of Canterbury beneath grey skies.  Sadly it seems my luck with the weather has finally run out.  Initial drizzle turns heavier, and heavier, and after trying to last it out in my normal clothes, I first put on my waterproof (sort of) hat, then my rain coat.  Dylan has a very cool poncho.  It is at least not cold, but the rain just keeps coming... we hear a report later describing it as monsoon conditions, which seems accurate enough.  It is a shame as the generally flat walking through fields of grain and meadows would be pleasant on a nicer day.  There is some entertainment when the rain passing through my bag emerges from the bottom as foam...  We're glad to reach Shepherdswell for lunch, although neither of its pubs do food - at least one of them lets us get some sandwiches from the co-op.

Clare and Dylan head back to London (they planned to, it isn't just because of the rain), and pretty much immediately the rain stops.  It was all their fault I am sure.  So we walk the remaining nine miles or so to Dover in better spirits, although the route is a fairly uninteresting tramp through farmland interspersed with woods.  Finally we make a steep descent into Dover and retire to the Premier Inn, where I eat massive amounts of food.

Delightful Dover.

Day three of our little holiday, and we head off on the Southern route - as per the South Downs Way, there are two alternates over the last section, and of course I want to do both.  Immediately it is clear that this route is a more impressive hiking path, as we clamber up to the Western Heights overlooking Dover, and walk along the top of the famous white cliffs, passing various defensive fortifications from WW2, Napoleonic times and beyond.  It certainly makes for fine walking, if a little strenuous, and after a rather late start we need to shift along - no time to stop at any of the pubs we pass, sadly.  In fact it is nearly 3pm when we pass the nine mile point and feel we can stop for a packed lunch, overlooking the strangely fascinating Eurotunnel rail terminal.  From here we follow a ridge inland, then detour off to our pub for the night, the Rose and Crown in Elham, over three miles off route but at least a nice walk along the Elham Valley Way.

The Eurotunnel rail terminal.

Last day and I am up early to eat a fine breakfast.  The other two are sensibly taking a taxi back to the NDW, I however am not sensible so head out for more walking while they're eating.  It is only an hour or so, and then we are back together for more ridge walking.  The 'Southern route' continues to be rather more scenic than the alternative, as we stride along an edge with views out towards the coast, and even pass an interesting landscape feature in the 'Devil's Kneading Trough' - vaguely reminiscent of High Cup in the Pennines.  Just above Wye we pass the Wye Crown, carved into the chalk in 1902 to commemorate the coronation of Edward VII, we then climb down into the village itself for lunch at the King's Head.  From here, just a mile or two through the fields remain until we reach the point at which we turned north a few days before.  We have now walked every mile of the North Downs Way... some friendly teutonic tourists take a group photo of us.  It isn't the end of the day though - we have a few miles yet through fields and along the river Stour to reach Ashford and its train station.  The less said about Ashford the better in all honesty... can't say I will return there in a hurry.  Overall though this has been a great walk - time to start planning the next one!

Devil's Kneading Trough.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.