Day two.

Now I mentioned earlier that there were four of us on this holiday but I've only mentioned three so far. Well Alan, the king of organisation had double booked so couldn't join us until the next evening. So it was that three happy pedal pusher set off in the heat and sunshine heading north for hills and adventure. We were in the Peak District now, an area mentioned frequently in cycling books and the CTC magazine. None of us had cycled here before so we were hoping for great things. Well the scenery was pleasant, the roads quite hilly but there were lots of people, tourists mostly and the roads were busy. We had a breathtaking descent down in to Bakewell. This was a beautiful town, mobbed with tourists but there were enough benches to cope. We had all heard about Bakewell Tart so we had to have a sample. Although it was Sunday the bakers were open and well stocked. Minutes later one of them was slightly less well stocked as three hungry cyclists were taking no chances with letting their calorie intake fall. The Bakewell Tart was exquisite, perhaps it was the weather, perhaps the hilly cycling terrain or maybe the quality of the food but this was the best lunch I had had on this holiday so far. Now Bakewell has a river running through it and as we weren't following the rivers of valleys there was a guaranteed climb up on the moors northwards to Hathersage so it wasn't long before we were burning those newly acquired calories at an alarming rate. After lunch in the rather unremarkable Hathersage we headed up past Ladybower Reservoir to take the renowned Strines Road, the 'classic' recommended to us the previous evening. This is a long stiff climb up on to the moors above Sheffield but just to add extra entertainment there is a deep valley which crosses the road. The climb out of the north side is 1:4 for 1½ miles! Only Calum from our party managed this without a bit of pushing. Near the top Bert and I were passed by two elderly white haired gentlemen on light weight racing bikes. They greeted us and commented on the steepness of the hill. When they passed Calum, who had collapsed on the verge at the top, they said “Quite 'ard that, weren't it?” They didn't stop however and soon disappeared in to the distance. By the time Bert and I reached the top they were gone. We stayed that night at Langsett Youth Hostel which has a pub very nearby. Unfortunately the pub was not open so we had a dry night.