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The Color Purple
A return visit to the northern Lakes has been on the cards for a while.
And today was the perfect day. Pour yourself a cuppa and open the nobnobs – there’s a few photos coming up! Read the rest of this entry »
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High Street
No – not shopping – that hill in the Lakes!
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Xmas Garburn
You need to get out at Christmas. Escape from the routine of slothfulness and gluttony and blow the cobwebs away.
Where better than the Lakes?
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Four Hills and an Undulation
You know I love the Lakes, well this is a fine poor weather route because it doesn’t climb too high. Instead it rides like a big roller coaster – a couple of hundred metres up then it’s back down again!
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That was the year…
… that was.
Well, it’s raining again (got soaked every day last week), I’m not feeling too good, and my mojo is cowering under the bed upstairs.
So I’m not riding.
Instead, here’s my view of 2007.Let’s start with a very rare picture of me. Spent hours photoshopping this to make my wheels appear off the ground!
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A day in the Lakes…
…is good. But two days is even better.
I had a weekend, I had a plan. And it went something like this.
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Ullswater Outing
I was going to call this a saunter down the High Street.
Unfortunately we never made it – after battling through gales to reach the halfway point of the ascent, we threw in the towel, dropped our saddles and headed for the sanctuary of the valley bottom.
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Nan Bield Ride
It’s my first-ever mountain bike ride in The Lakes and I’m about to creep down a precipitous switchbacked scree slope of unimaginable technicalities.
Just seconds ago I watched, with building fear, the first of our party of five conquistadors begin the drop from the 725 metre summit of the Nan Bield Pass.
I’m in childhood again; like the time you shuffled around as your mates decided who would be first to take on a dare.
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Headless in the woods…
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
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Mr Sparkle fires up the GPS (Formulary for a New Urbanism)
Latest News
August 24th, 2009
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Hit The North 2
What Doesnt Kill You...
Date:17th July 2010
So why not sign up?.. It won’t kill you. Giants Seat Campsite, Ringley, Manchester, M26 1DY. Hopefully we’ll see you on July 17th.