More Hills on Wheels
Riding the Peak District: The Sequel
May 3, 1999

Distance: 67.5 miles
Elevation: 7,100 feet
Difficulty: 7/10 (at the time)
Scenery: 8/10;
Route: Macclesfield-Rainow-Kettleshulme-Horwich End-Eccles Pike-
Chinley (wrong turn)-Chapel-en-la-Frith-A625 (wrong turn)-Man Tor-
Vale of Edale-Hope-Aston-Bamford Moor (Bole Hill)- Hathersage-
Abney-Great and Little Hucklow-Tideswell-Wheston-Smalldale-Dove Holes-
Combs-B5470-Whaley Bridge-The Dipping Stone-Kettleshulme-Rainow-
Macclesfield

My limbs were still sore from the strain of yesterday's ride when I was awoken by the glare of the eager Monday-morning sun as it broke through the window. I dragged myself up from the warm and comfy bed at the inn; it was Day 2 of my whirlwind Peak District tour. Yesterday was much harder than I had expected, and I can only hope that today would be less rough. Unlike yesterday's overcast skies, today's weather looked promising. By 7:30AM, the promise of a much warmer and sunnier Bank Holiday Monday was already evident.

It was quiet outside, and much of Macclesfield was still asleep, though morning had long broken. The few cars already out in the roads were moving at a leisurely Sunday-morning pace, their engines grumbling, complaining against being pressed into service at such an early hour.

(Above: On the B5470 near Rainow)

My plan for the day was to take it easier than yesterday and to give my tired legs a chance to recover. So what was this rising before me just past central Macclesfield’s roundabout? Peak District's good morning was a series of 10%+ hills quite literally within half a mile from where I had started. And in an ominous reprise of yesterday's ride, by the time I reached Kettleshulme, my altimeter had ticked past 1,000 feet.

Folded within this initial stretch were at least 3 sustained climbs. As I recall, these were: (1) in Higher Hurdsfield, (2) just past Rainow, and (3) just south of Kettleshulme. The climbs were quite tough, but I didn’t mind them too much, feeling strong at this point and feeling energized by the fine weather, by the smell of the earth, and by the sights and sounds of the country. Nature, in contrast to the sleepy-headed humanity down below, was wide awake and already hopping with activity. The sun was out in its full glory, with hardly a cloud in the sky. Both the green grass and the newly minted leaves were swaying gracefully to the urging of the gently blowing breeze. I was reminded of Chaucer: Whan that Aprill with shoures sote, the drogthe of Marche hath perced to the rote…when Zephirus eek with his swete breeth inspired hath in every holt and heeth the tender croppes…than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, and palmeres for to seken straunge strondes; and especially, from every shires ende of Engelond to [the Peak District] they wende….

(Above: Near Harrop House Farm before Kettleshulme)

Wobbly legged lambs, who with splotches of black around the eyes were like hyperactive boys and girls with soot-covered face betraying their having played about the chimney, were running up and down the fields, chasing each other, without worry, generally acting as if the great secret of life lay not in the constant worrying about how one would get on in the world, but in making full use of one's time. Their mothers looked on, sagely and protectively, perhaps pondering their offsprings’ prospects. Ever the cynic, I thought about how these young ones too, would grow up soon enough, and like the rest of their flock, would be stressed once shearing time came, or be pre-occupied with looking after their, and their neighbors', youngs, or in following the fold. But for the present, the earth was alive with a palpable sense of excitement; summer can't arrive soon enough for its inhabitants.

I crested this long series of climbs at the point where the B5470 and the Pott Shrigley road intersected; and I was rewarded for my efforts with an exhilarating descent. I reached the turning to Goyt Valley, which was on yesterday's route. But today I zoomed past it, past a lovely meadow and a couple of inns before a 12% drop into Horwich End, through a residential area, and across to the east side of the A5004.

(Above and Below: On Eccles Road)

I turned left on to Eccles Road, a narrow road tucked away in the hills, with a surface quality that deteriorated the higher the road got. By the time I reached the road's high point, just below Eccles Point at 370 meters, much of the pavement had been either washed away or overcome with gravelly sand. As I was tentatively negotiating the uneven surface, a mountain biker confidently rode by me, completely undeterred by the pavement’s quality. Yeah, well I can kick your butt on a good road, I muttered sotto voce (just kidding, mountain bikers are humans too, although many of them ride irresponsibly and damage fragile trails).

(Above: The A625 just past Chapel-en-le-Frith)

At the next intersection, I turned left instead of right and dropped down across the A6 overpass and into the sleepy-looking town of Chinley, located opposite where I was supposed to go. Upon my application for help to find my bearings, a well-meaning man tried to plot a circuitous route to get me to Chapel-en-la-Frith without having to climb the steep road from which I had just come down. I said it’s rather pointless to try to avoid hills in these parts, because they're omnipresent. So I decided to just turned around, and started riding back up on the steep road. The effort didn’t leave me much in terms of enthusiasm for Chapel-en-le-Frith, which looked like a run-of-the-mill market town anyway, so I pretty much just rode through it and proceeded towards Sparrowpit.

Last Updated: October 02, 1999