Cool runnings
After two hot days, morning dawns cool, still and misty. There are 30-mile, 55-mile and 100-mile routes to choose from. I’ve signed up for the century ride.
I roll through the campsite and into the town of Bakewell. Riders are waved off under a Union Jack to applause and cheering from the small crowd gathered at the startline.
The early hour and lingering mist means it’s very cool, but the bike feels good. Nothing is slipping, creaking or out of true, although the bidons quietly chatter away in their cages.
We double-back on ourselves at a roundabout to join the Monsal Trail, following the route of an old railway line. A rider gestures towards my bottles. “I hope those are filled with champagne,” he says. I can tell you now, if your bike has rattly bidons you are never short of someone to talk to.
The route passes through several tunnels, enveloping riders in cold, gloomy air. Then it’s back into the light and over spectacular viaducts. Even the low cloud can’t disguise the beauty of the views.
I’m in severe danger of enjoying myself, when the bike starts to change up of its own accord. It seems okay when we head back onto the road so I put this down to the bumpy surface of the Monsal Trail, but after a few miles the problem is back. On the day’s first major climb, whenever I change down the bike tries to change straight back up again. It stays in gear if I hold the down-tube lever in position, but that’s no solution on a 100-mile ride.
Instead of queuing for food at the first feedstop, I tinker with the lever, and after a few minutes of fiddling and tightening I have a 10-speed bike again. Leaving the feed station behind, the route climbs higher. We pass two kids in their onesies who have delayed their breakfast to walk out to the roadside and cheer us on.
That hard-earned height is soon lost as we plunge down into the Hope Valley. The descent is almost arrow-straight and goes on and on. As I pull on the brakes I’m reminded that slowing down an old bicycle isn’t the same as gently squeezing the levers of a modern bike. It’s a more long-winded process, a conversation between various pensionable components, the brakes politely asking the wheels if they wouldn’t mind awfully rotating a little more slowly…