Going downhill fast
Ice cream at the feed stop at High Peak Junction improves my mood and gives my energy levels a sugary boost. A few miles later comes the best descent of the day, an absolute pearler winding down through the wooded hillside to the River Derwent. From here it’s a short and fast run to Chatsworth House, where the riders get quite a welcome: would sir prefer Pimm’s or sparkling wine? (Note: there’s no right of way for cycling in the estate, so you’ll need to detour around this section.)
One of the marshalls tells me there’s just four miles to go. It’s not the mileage I’m interested in, it’s whether there’s another big hill. Sure enough, there’s a final bugger of a climb to overcome, with a nasty steep stretch that has some riders walking. Then it’s down the other side into Bakewell and the finish back at the festival, complete with cheering crowds and the allimportant vouchers for food and a hard-earned beer.
The Dawes and I have almost fallen out a few times. We’re not from the same generation, after all. But I’m full of admiration for the way my bike and hundreds of others like it took everything the Peak District could throw at them. Ageing bicycles which some would put in a museum – and others condemn to the skip – have beasted 15 per cent slopes, brake-screeching descents, and dusty tracks, never failing to maintain a stiff uppper lip.
The origins of the Eroica Britannia may be Italian, but this event is definitely British.