It might become a bit long and I'm attempting at 'zero' spelling mistakes, so grab a chair and a cuppa. If you can be bothered that is, I do hope you enjoy and find it informative. The other name I'd thought of for the title would have been, Surviving Wessy'. The locals, or at least myself and a few others, call it lovingly as 'Wessy'. The path that leads from Marsden to Wessenden Head and our little corner of solitude and Peaks beauty.
The story starts at my first real, realisation of mountain biking (proper). Then ends at my last near-death experience of where I met it. In no real order and with no real aim, it makes perfect sense to report it here.
So it was about 2007 or 2006 when my mate Tez at Colne Valley Cycles had a poster up of the now legendary, 'Colne Valley Mountain Bike Challenge'. A ride that's been so successful over the years, that from 2007 through to 2010 we saw the numbers go up from about 100 or much less, to well over 250 and possibly 300. We've had cardiac arrests , surreal moments of Elvis lookalikes and even fat lads. I looked for the fat-lad blogpost but maybe its been deleted as Jonny does try to kewp it as x-directory as possible these days. So idiots were going over private land which are only open for the actual ride so some extreme measures are probably being taken these days.
So in 2007, after having bewn riding my beautiful commuting Marin Palisades Trail on the towpath for many years, I finally got my first glimpse of real - cross country - mountain biking. Went with my t-shirt and not much safety clothing. It was wet, it was cold, I was at the very back but managed to complete it somehow. Almost six hours and me and mountain-biking were married for life. I now knew I had some proper beauty and trails on my doorstep which wasn't for the faint hearted (not your version of it, sorry). All I needed to do was be strong enough to do the thirty-mile route there and back withiut dying, obviously.
At the time of writing my Strava says I've done the final climb to Wessy-Head, thirty times since 2013. Add to that the days before Strava and it's quite evident I love that place. Moving from Huddersfield to Dewsbury was actually made more sad because access to it would become further away. I've always been careful going on up and winter is generally a 'no no'. However, sometimes the Peaks becomes very 'wintery' in mid-summer.
Like the time I went up with my mate Kris (the copper). He'd just got himself his shiny Haglofs jacket and was rather impressed with it. I really couldn't see the fuss and never thought it looked safe enough for a ride to the top. Then we got there, to Wessy Head and waited thes rest of the lads. Me and Ash waited at the top and stupidly took off our gloves. It was summer/autumn at the bottom, two miles away where we'd entered the trail in Marsden, but hailing up here. Had our biscuits and 'wotnot' and regloved.
Next we'd regrouped and were all heading down the road to the Meltham cattlegrid and across Meltham Moors. It was here that I realised my fingers were painfully numb and for the first time in many years I might just have to tap out and cry. Thankfully - not for him - my mate Kris and his Haglofs softshell had succumed to the hailstones we'd met at Pudding Real Moss. A place we'd had some 'Ned Overend' moments a few years before when we'd (well, 'I') tried to DH it and bunny hop a crater. Bikes ended up about 10 metres away and we felt like we had bloody knees.
So we were hurtling down Meltham Moss bridleway, me thinking frantically about what excuse to give the lads that I'd need to shorten the ride. Thankfully (not for him) by the time we reached the road, Kris was having a fully blown hypothermic episode. Jumped into a local shop (there's only one up there so would've been screwed with 6 asians in an alien environment... I won't elaborate) and thankfully the little asian lady made him a cuppa whilst we stripped him down and put a 'rambo' suit on him. Saved, Alhamdulillah and we got the taxi-van home. Still don't recall who'd paid!
Recently I learnt from a Forestry Commision lady when I'd reached the top that West Nab, somewhere near the shooting range, is actually thw highest point in West Yorkshire. Explains why it's often a bit hit and miss with the conditions up here at Pudding Moss. Once whilst flying down the road from Pudding to West, i almost lost control of the mtb at about 40mph. Learnt my lesson and, before I get into that, here's some pics from last weeks ride with Dan.
Said my prayers here after making ablution at the little pond about 300m previously.
Couldn't quite realise where I'd taken the first months pic for my 12 seasons report. It was rather cold and I really didn't wanna take off my gloves to clean the lens. It was wet... and cold.
This perfectly captures the gravity of the situation I think.
This being the point at which I think I regloved after making ablution. It took alot of thought as well as kneeling on a ME jacket looking into the pond. If someone had been mad enough to have been out, they'd have been really, really, really confused.
The puddly-pond which I only discovered after about 13 years of riding past. Well, I only discovered that it was rather large and had tadpoles. The kids - we came when the sun was pretending to be out mid covid season - relaibly informed me that tadpoles actually become frogs and not fish! Who'd have thought... They were right!
My very own personal waterfall. It's much more beautiful than the pictures could do justice. Wasn't too cold by this point but I'd already had cold feet - both literally and figuratively.
Here it is, the shot I'd gone to catch for season 2. Beautifully executed, though I should've left the sheep-tubs out. At the time it felt lile the right thing to do. I was wrong, as you can see from last months episode below.
So technically this is where the ride starts. Well, the near-death part as before it'd only been mild to rubbish. Now it was becoming rubbish to 'I'm gonna really enjoy getting home and having that shower when/if I make it'. Technically my job was done, I'd got my pic and was still relatively near to civilisation. Coming up this climb I'd weighed up my options and decided I'd take the pic and grab the Marsden train home. Picture taken and 'trainline' app checked. Only £6 to get home which was over 20 miles away but the current train would be here in 1 minutes and the next in another hour and a half. My fate was sealed. Wessy and Pudding it was.
Made ablution after careful consideration of the elements, and was as quick as my brain could work to minimise exposure. Then on the ride back down to Meltham on the other side, it got blowy. Actually it got very blowy and I had to hold on hard to the edge of the road as well as the bike. Fingers became numb and the ugly feet of riding with summer shoes and ripped winter gloves showed its ugly head. All I'd need to do was survive to 'the bottom' at Meltham town centre and a good 350m below where I was now. Holding on and saying my prayers... Well reciting my Quran at the top of my voice as no-one could hear me. Noone could get offended at my 'Islamicness' and by default couldn't report me to the KGB.
Why would I wear summer shoes on an almost-winter ride I hear someone think. Well, it's all in the release angle of the winter boots and their 16 degrees-release cleats. Annoying CrankBros ovethinking things for everyone. The extra angle wouldn't allow me to ride the cobbles. Well, wouldn't allow me to ride the first few cobbles before I needed to unclip. By the time I'd reached 5 degrees I'd be on the floor again.
Got to the bottom of Meltham, alive and now I just had traffic to deal with. Across from the junction was a long queue but it was my right of way. Do I take it or pretend I don't know the rules of the road. Act timid and afraid of the drivers and give everyone way. Would I heck, the traffic that'd waited for probably the last 3 minutes wouldhave to wait another 6 seconds whilst I, "don't you lot ever stay at home"d it across the junction. That was what the driver in the 5th car down the queue said. I did think briefly about stopping to educate him about how 'we' cyclists are the cause of 'less congestion' and not more. Or maybe he'd realised the trauma I'd just been through and it was a message of condolence and sympathy. I couldn't give a '**-*' as I was alive and free. Free and alive All Praise God.
Had I died it it would have been a disaster for 'muslim long-distance distance mtb-ing' on a local and global level. Global, cos I'm always at the forefront of encouraging the 'roadies' to get out there and enjoy the elements. Local, cos my folks never let any of us on a bike whilst we were pre-twenties. It was at the tender age of about 35 I'd taught my elder sibling how easy it was to balance and it was in my 20s that I'd saved up and bought my first bike. The folks always assumed the local traffic would kill us and when I got into mtb, my dad for many years thought I was 'nuts'. Even now when I'm visiting anytime after 2000 he finds it worrying and mad. Naturally I'll only tell him abiut any exploits after the event.
Wind the clock back to 0945 now. I was frantically rushing to meet Dan on this gorgeous offroad leaving Dewsbury. I really thought today would be the day that my oxygen demands would exceed what I could get in. First proper ride after Covid and about 3 minutes into this climb I'd given up. Totally knackered and thinking I'd never see Wessy today. Thankfully muscle memory is an amazing thing. Thanks Dan for coming to play out...
The cobbles at Outlane Golf Course which are firmly etched in the 'OMG' part of every CVMBC riders memory. Not sure I'll ever manage to ride them again now that I've had my Covid as I eas soft before, even softer now.
Once you get past them cobbles and up the steep 17 percent bottleneck. This image awaits, but any 'budding' CVMBC hopefuls, don't worry, as this isn't part of the official route (which you shouldn't try to ride fully on a normal day as some is private). It's absolutely amazing and some friendly horses at the top-right.
Is it a horse... Is it a plane. Nope, it's Stan...
He's waiting for Dan who would like some lessons in TLS. But I reckon he was spot on. Maybe I should've brought my overpants and put my waterproof on a few 2 minutes earlier.
Dan (the man) making yet again a dramatic entrance. Pretending he's coming up a steep climb for 'the shoot'.
Honestly, I wish I had proper legs. Will I ever ever climb up this rediculously easy (looking) climb again: I don't know.
Thirteen years down, many more to come (unless my heart goes before that
and it'll have been a good life God-Willing). Watch this/that space to see if I manage to visit Wessy for the full 12 months. From now though I'll be calling it the 'Real Pudding'... Or 'pudding real'.
Nothing to do with puddings, but... The outdoors, ain't it gorgeous (poor roadies).
