We were frozen off last weekend so we couldn’t afford to miss another weekend, Phil was away on Rob Bradley’s 60th weekend so the numbers were going to be low, quality was however in abundance as myself, Dave, Steppy and Tim took to the roads. Mark L had pulled out so he could prepare for his son’s birthday party, Freddie was going cash in hand up to Giant cycles at King Cross to secure a new steed, Jaimie Mc was hoping to join us but had to accompany his daughter on a ride down the Greenway, we look forward to welcoming him into our ranks on another weekend.

It is the time of year when certain of our members have been known to replace their push irons and Dave had intimated that he would be looking to purchase after January, he had been silent on the matter and there was suspicion in the air. Last week a WhatsApp message from Philly was sent in a group environment when Dave would have preferred it to have been sent to him personally, the communication informed Dave and all and sundry that his bright sparkling new Felt bicycle would be delivered to Philly’s mums house so Dave can go and pick it up, for some time Dave had been in private contact but now all was revealed.

We met at the Martin’s Nest and went up the back way to Clifton, Steppy has been gritting as opposed to riding of late, clearly the frustration was in evidence and he was putting in a lengthy stint off the front, Dave indicated he might pay for his wanton use of energy later on in the ride, we shall see. The lanes of Clifton soon became the lanes of Hartshead and Dave and I were jolted by a genuine whoop of excitement coming from Tim, “look at that lads 3 turnips for £1, I’ll have to tell our lass about that!!” we shared in the general feeling of euphoria and dropped down through Mirfield. I guessed that a right turn would feed us down to the main road and had to be guided back on track by a local, the footpath was very pebbly and we had to walk much to the disgust of my friends.

The route was taking Steppy back to his usual gritting run, last weekend he had slid the gritting wagon down a steep lane out of control before lodging it securely between a garden wall and a lamp post, we were able to identify the spot as we made our way to Lepton. We attacked the steady climb up Woodsome Road and it is fair to say the Hopkinson brothers were taking time to take in the view over towards Almondbury, as we pulled into Farnley Tyas Tim stripped the polka dot jersey off my back. The forecast had been dreadful but we had had an hour of dry conditions, it was easy to see that rain was on its way and we were soon in wind driven drizzle as we dropped to New Mill. Our next destination was Jackson Bridge an old favourite 100 hardest climbs in Britain, although our legs were still feeling Woodsome Road we set about the punishing ascent. The wind had really started to blow and around the bottom hairpins it was threatening to drive us back down the tarmac, at the cottages the wind deflected and was momentarily behind us, the sheets of cold rain could be seen against the hillsides and we had no alternative but to duck our heads and press on. I reached the summit first and wrenched the polka dot back from Tim, Steppy was last up and Dave forecast was looking spot on.

We had planned to ride along the valley top but now the rain and wind was unbearable so we retreated back to valley level and rode towards the real treat that is Bloc café in Holmfirth, it was the lad’s first visit there and I had promised them a memorable breakfast, at one point it had seemed to be the only way to encourage a climb up Jackson Bridge. We parked the bikes up and found a table, the choice of breads is astonishing, my eggs and bacon on toast were divine and we agreed it is a magnificent find passed on to us by Craig.

We now had the valley to ride back down and a good tailwind was always going to help progress, I did my best to slow things down by thinking I had left my glasses in the café only to find them in my pocket, further delays as a result of a shed chain caused the others mild irritation, we climbed up Bradford Road to Fixby and the Hopkinsons were a strange shade of grey, up out of Brighouse I was home and the others rode back to Hipperholme, the ride was 42 miles with 4,000 feet of climbing and was a good return to the saddle affair.

I would normally sign off here but I had agreed to go over to Bradford Salem with the 3 Hopkinsons and more blog worthy events have to be reported, Dave drove in his brand spanking new Mitsubishi hybrid 4X4, the electric motor made light work of the hills over Queensbury and Thornton and before we knew it we were at Salem, the parking attendant took our money and asked Dave if it was a 4x4, “of course it is” came his curt response, in that case you can drive it to the top field. We set off up an incline and made reasonable progress towards the other 4x4’s parked on the top of the bank. As we pulled on to the field the car started lurching and sliding in any direction apart from the one chosen by Dave, mud was being cast left, right and centre and we just made it to allotted car parking space. When we opened the door the smell hit us, it was as though there had been a fire in the Kirkgate fish market! After the game we had to push the “4x4” as a large range of normal saloon cars were driven across the field without any difficulty. A last minute Brods victory finished an excellent day out.

Ship