Saturday lunchtime and the clouds are gathering in Swaledale as we head up Fremington Edge:
Freezing rain beginning to coat everything - bikes, clothing, bits of exposed skin:
Chew skating over a bridge (which was the only sign on the ground that this bridleway existed at all):
Seeking sanctuary in a pub in Bowes after 5 hours riding/pushing and about 15 miles of progress, Chew holds up the ice shell from his bag:
My rucksack with a similar ice shell - when I peeled it off, it had an imprint of the stitched logo inside it, like vacuum-formed plastic:
Sunday was a different day, but still lots of ice around. The road up to the Tan Hill Inn:
Back in Swaledale, it felt like autumn again:
