If you do a literal translation of the word Todmorden in to German it translates as “dead, to die”, and I have often thought that is a pretty adequate description of this valley bottom mill town that straddles the Lancashire border. Mark Taylforth designed a ride on Saturday that included 2 climbs up the steep valley side that threatened to take us all near to death.

Mark Taylforth a Lancastrian member of our group had kindly invited me over to do an afternoon walk around Blacko that would include a couple of pub stops and an overnight stay, we decided that a meet in Mytholmroyd would enables to saunter up Cragg Vale and drop to Littleborough and after a gentle climb to Todmorden we could amuse ourselves in Todmorden on the 2 new climbs he had discovered. These 2 climbs had both been allocated 10 out of 10 for suffering. For the last couple of weeks we have marvelled at the exploits of the riders taking on the Tour de France, one day involved 3 successive Hors Category ascents with the Alpe d’Huez coming last, there are 16 kms of climb at an average gradient of 8%. Now when the French build a road they put a series of hairpins to slacked the gradient off, on Alpe d’Huez there are 21 hairpins, each hairpin has a steep corner at 12%. Now in West Yorkshire this hairpin technique was never discovered, probably to save tarmac the roads go straight up the hillside. This is all well and good for a well-tuned 2 litre car but for a group of aging cyclists it is far from ideal.

Salmon had made an early solo attack on the route and rang me from the top of Dog Kennel Lane telling me how hideous the first climb was, as we assembled at Brookfoot I didn’t divulge the full horror in front of us. Tim our other member from over the border was very happy as a result of the Red Rose 20/20 victory at Old Trafford, Clive had threatened to bring a friend along but arrived solo, as we suspected he has only imaginary friends. Phil was last to arrive and followed Mark Lewis on a recently purchased Cervelo S5 with full Carbon aero-dynamic frame and electronic Di2 gear shifters, Mark was very smug as he guided us through the many attributes, I have to admit that his smugness resulted in me thinking a small mechanical on his first outing would not be the worst thing that could happen. Chopper was there on his “Gay Pride” Tifosi, James Preece had made his way over from Bradford, Dave and I made up the numbers and I was sporting my new Yorkshire under caps, Dave has discarded his as he thinks it makes his neck ache.

We made our way out along the valley and were soon in Sowerby Bridge, we fought our way up the steep part of Hollings Mill Lane and we met Mark at the café in Mytholmroyd, before long we were on the early sections of the 8.5 km Cragg Vale climb. James and Tim set off at a rare old pace, I settled in behind Clive and Phil was draughting behind me. Chopper and Dave were keeping up but after 2 kms I lost contact with Clive, Phil overtook me and slotted on to Clive’s rear tyre for a tow. As we reached the steep section I could hear Chopper grunting as he kept pace. With 3 km to go the road goes out into the open Moor and a headwind is inevitable. Clive pulled Phil passed Mark T, Mark L was a bit further up the road clearly his new bike was performing, Phil pulled out from his cover and beat Clive to the line. Chopper attempted a similar manoeuvre but went a touch early enabling me to re-take him just before the end. As we pulled in to the lay-by at the top Clive was having a right go at Phil for not sharing the load. James and Tim had got times around 25 minutes which is a great effort, it was now that Chopper realised we had far harder climbs to do and he was less than happy.

We made our way rapidly down Blackstone Edge and went up the valley to Walsden where we took on a great butty at the mobile café outside Rigg’s garden centre. We were only a mile from Dog Kennel Lane and we had little time to warm up before the left turn was taken near to the Town Hall. We rounded a corner and there it was in front of us, a long section of 30% hillside disappearing around a bend with no end in sight, I selected the highest gear but that helped little, we were all weaving about the road, luckily there were no vehicles daft enough to attempt the climb. I was lost in a haze of wheezing, gasping, wrenching and face pulling when a sound bounced between the steep dry stone walls that was music to my ears, Mark was frantically applying pressure on his electronic gear shift to try and locate the higher gears, the bike refused to give him that luxury and gave out a sickening loud crunch every time he tried to change. Clearly every last shred of energy was being used to power the pedals over, every tendon was visible in his legs as once again the loud crack of missed gears reverberated down the road, then at last Mark was off and walking. Somewhat annoyingly his slow walk was far too fast for me to catch him up but I was relieved to hear a number of “buy cheap, buy twice” comments. The road turned a number of corners and then slackened off encouraging Mark to climb back on only to be spat off again when the slope once again approached 20%.

After 1.5 miles of agony we reached the top and had a fine view down to Portsmouth where the next test awaited us. A close look at Mark’s bike revealed a small cog at the rear which we were informed was a 28, even so it was far less forgiving than the 32 and 34 cogs we were all using. When we reached the bottom of Pudsey Road Mark announced he would not be taking on our next test and he was going to go home via the valley bottom and get the bike in for a repair, we gave him the chicken clucking calls as he disappeared. The climb out of Portsmouth was hard and unrelenting but at least there were some hairpins to ease the pain. At the top we had to go our separate ways with Mark T and I turning left towards Burnley and the rest going right to return home, there was the strange spectacle of 8 grown men doing chicken noises at each other before we went our separate ways.

The ride was a great test, the weather was less hot with cloud cover, there were some rain drops in the air as we reached Burnley but great cycling weather. In fairness the riders who avoided Lancashire had done 6 miles more than me but my return ride the day after more than offset that. Mark took his bike in and was told that the large cog is in fact a 24, he has ordered a 28 and a good gear service in the hope that there will be no further need to resort to walking.

Phil and I are off “wild camping” this weekend and once gain we will be foraging for food and sleeping rough around the Peak District.

Ship