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Another day another climb and today the first of the day started at Hebden Bridge and headed out on to Wadsworth Moor. This time quite long but not too steep and for the first time there were four of us. We had to skirt Keighly and be careful not to get on any of the busiest road but were pretty successful. Up till now our pace had stuck at around 10mph and we were all quite happy with that. But today we were picking up speed. Calum wondered if we were showing off in front of Alan, perhaps we were trying to break Alan's spirit on his first day. I hadn't noticed the change of pace, all I knew was that we were heading for Skipton and I wanted to get there before the pies were sold out.

Calum being a vegetarian couldn't understand our rapture at tasting the freshest, juiciest, most porky of all pork pies. Once again we were not let down. Of course we stayed too long, ate too many pies and then had to tear ourselves away to head up the road towards Linton. We were really keen to stay there, once again this was a hostel under threat but it was not open that night.

We pressed on to Kettlewell, another fine hostel and on the way Alan broke a spoke. Now I did mention that this was his first day didn't I. A broken spoke already! Well incredible as it may seem we arrived at the hostel slightly before it opened so Alan was able to cope with the broken spoke situation before the doors even opened.

This hostel has been 'improved'. What this appears to mean is that the excellent member's kitchen has been demolished and replaced by a tiny, inadequate cooking area with a small number of tiny pans. This must be 'improved' taken from the special YHA dictionary. We were now in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales, Calum was overwhelmed by the scenery and this also meant we were in 'Black Sheep' territory. We wasted no time in making our way to a pub and Bert (rather unwisely I thought) has three and a half pints of Riggwelter, that's the extra strong ale from the Black Sheep brewery.

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We slept extremely well, I didn't notice Alan's snoring at all. After a good breakfast we headed up the dale past Buckden and past The George. Our friend once made a long detour on a walking holiday to visit this pub and as far as I can remember it was closed when he got there. It was too early for us so we carried on up the stiff climb made more difficult by a strengthening northerly wind. It didn't look like summer anymore but then why should it? It was June and England and so the weather was about right. By the time we reached the summit the views had long since disappeared and it was too cold to hang around so we whizzed down to Hawes. Now the Wensleydale Creamery is on this road just a mile or so outside of the village. Since we had Bakewell Tart in Bakewell we had to have some Wensleydale cheese in Wensleydale. Calum and I did the shopping then we made our way slowly to the foot of the Buttertubs Pass. Now this was a hill I've done in both directions several times and if I meet any cyclists from the Huddersfield area I will whole heartedly recommend it as a 'classic'. We were doing it in the easy direction, maximum gradient 16% but it is still a long slog. It was much too cold to hang around at the top so while the others looked at the rock formations Calum and I headed to the teashop in Muker. Alan and Bert arrived soon after. By the time we set off down the dale it was clear that our bodies (or was it our minds?) had had enough. We had arranged to rendezvous at the Black Bull in Reeth for a pint (no pub at Grinton Lodge) but Bert thought we meant The Bridge at Grinton so we ended up missing our pint and meeting up again at Grinton Lodge Youth Hostel. Calum and I cooked the dinner.

• Starter, a selection of Wensleydale cheeses with crackers and stuffed olives.
• Main course, Spaghetti Bolognese and garlic bread.
• Pudding, suet pudding with raisins and dream topping.

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Morning dawned damp and misty. Calum advised me that I should do stretching exercises before cycling. It helps avoid cramps and is especially important when the weather is like that. Well I haven't suffered a cramp before when cycling but I gave it a go. Never again, I was limping for two days after that. We set off up Argengarthdale, another long climb but by now we were getting good at this, or so we thought. After about twenty minutes of climbing an old man on a sit-up-and-beg, flat cap etc. caught us up and chatted amiably for about ten minutes. I struggled to catch my breath to hold the conversation but he was not troubled at all. Eventually he turned off on to a track and we were left to struggle up the dale anonymously. The ride across The Stang is supposed to be very beautiful, the mist was so thick we were lucky not to crash in to each other.

After shopping in Barnard Castle we tackled the second climb of the day through the most superb moorland scenery over the moors to Stanhope. Then we had the pleasure and enjoyment of a third big climb in one day, the well known Crawleyside Bank. I remember tackling this several times as a teenager and it was well known as a savage climb. Now as a thirty something and with fully loaded panniers how would I cope. My mind had been on this climb for several days as it happens so I was mentally prepared. I engaged low gear (I knew it was a long way to go) and made slow but steady progress. As it happens it wasn't as bad as I expected. A combination of low gears and a week of practice made the climb a pleasure which is as it should be. Once again the mist enveloped us over the moors making the trip strangely quiet and we arrived at Edmunbyers just as the doors opened at 17:00. This was a special place for me, it was the first hostel I ever visited. I was on a school trip in 1973 so I suppose Alan would have been there too. I was aching for the warden to ask if I had been there before so I could say “Yes back in '73” but she never did. Bert and Alan cooked dinner, a mixed stir fry with fruit cake to follow. That night we went over to The Punchbowl and met Terry for a couple of pints. Now it just happened that there was a pub quiz on so we took part, just to be neighbourly. Well we won didn't we? It was looking a bit dodgy for a while until someone had the great idea of donating the prize (beer tokens) to the runners up. We couldn't have used the beer tokens anyway, they were only valid in that pub and it guaranteed us a safe exit and passage back to the hostel.

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It was still misty in the morning when we set off. We managed to find the disused railway at Shotley Bridge which is now The Derwent Walk. This was good quality cycling all the way to Swalwell, very fast too with only slight gradients. We were back in Dunston by 11:30 and were able to catch the England v. Argentina game in the Dun Cow. That night we met up with several others to celebrate George's fortieth birthday. The cycle holiday had truly been the 'thirty something' tour. Nearly every day we did thirty something miles and we were all for the last time thirty somethings.