Arthur_Findley_on_Deerplay_Moor

Arthur Findley ventures into the Hill Climb world

HILL CLIMB; PLAYING AT IT ON DEERPLAY MOOR

Never fancied Hill Climbs. Doing a couple on the tandem a couple of decades back probably has something to do with it. Traumatised.

But John (Findley)wanted to do Rossendale RC's "Roadman's Hillclimb" up Deerplay Moor in the Pennines, above Burnley, on 3rd September. My recollections from last year, admittedly from driving it, were of a relatively benign hill, one that allows you to measure your effort rather than the nasty ones like Ramsbottom Rake that just come at you and are always hard. Its "Roadman" title was reassuring, seeming to confirm it wasn't a proper "Hill Climber's" hill so wasn't nasty at all. Suckered, I thought I might have a go. My objective (and this shows my level of athleticism) was simply not to disgrace SCC colours by coming last – er, as by not coming last that is.

The climb's fairly long at about 2.5 miles and rises 620 feet or so from the start at about 720 feet above sea level to finish pretty much on the watershed at around 1340 feet, so it's fairly high, at least for the UK; there's higher tarmac across the Channel of course but everyone knows that one of our British feet, and especially Lancashire feet, is worth several of those continental metres.

Training (not that I do) comprised a trundle up Ashurst the evening before supplemented by a heavy gardening session on the morning of the event. Well, I was giving the bushes a hard prune from the ladders. Sweated rather a lot. Actually, massively. Didn't drink much. Back and arms ached afterwards. Very thirsty. Maybe not the best prep, but we loaded the bikes into the car anyway and headed for the hills.

My resolve began to wobble a bit as we sat in a string of cars stuck behind a lorry labouring up the climb at 20 mph. This is a proper hill after all, I thought. It felt steeper than I remembered. I still felt a bit jaded after the gardening. I was very thirsty and therefore dehydrated, which wouldn't help. I wasn't so sure about this after all.

After signing-on in a lay-by perhaps half way up the course another rider pointed to my SCC kit and referred to Bill Bradley. "Yeah but I'm no Bill Bradley!" I was very quick to point out, not wanting to be loaded with unrealistic expectations and suddenly aware of the heavy load I carried as SCC's HillClimb Representative for the evening, the Club of course having a distinguished record in such events. He said "But not many were" so I felt better.

After the traditional banana, I set off for the summit as a warm-up. Definitely felt steeper than I had expected, much steeper, and this upper section was actually less steep than the lower bit. Turned round and enjoyed a pleasingly rapid descent down, down past the car, down past the start, down past John, down, down - too far down …………. In Hill Climbs what goes down must come up, and those few seconds of wild descent translated into a few minutes of slightly frenetic climbing back up to the start, where I arrived a bit puffed and a bit (more) tired. You can tell I haven't done many of these.

Standing in line I thought "This is definitely not a good idea" and being held up at my start all I recall is gazing down at the rectangular grid beneath my front wheel and thinking I really didn't want to be doing this, really. I started at about 90% effort and quickly felt very nauseous (the banana) but luckily this wore off by the half-way mark and I was able to hit it hard, as in firmly trying to change down from bottom gear. Read that again. Think about it. Hell's teeth it was 'ard. Why was I doing this?

Someone was taking photos about two-thirds way up so, mindful of the Club colours, I was careful to look composed as the camera flashed but immediately paid for it as the road steepened and I realised I had no gears left (I had already forgotten that I was in bottom – probably oxygen starvation due to the altitude). My unofficial and worryingly perceptive family coach, who reckons I don't understand the meaning of "pain" (I don't), descending after his own (winning) ride, bawled "Come ONNNN!!!" as I hauled past. Think Marc Madiot, not hanging out of a team car, but equally animated. I think he thought I wasn't trying but I think I thought I was.

The Finish was, er, welcome but (and pay attention) the best, the very best bit of the ride was the right fork onto a single track lane serving several farms, my warm-down. The hill was done, the air was still, there was no sound, the sky glowed gold and I could see from the Peak District to the Yorkshire Dales. I removed my number and savoured the peace. Beautiful. The ride down was (again) enjoyed.

Result? Didn't come last, not by a few places, so SCC honour was upheld, or at least dishonour was avoided. Next year?

report from Arthur Findley posted 05/10/2013

Website Designed by Taylored Web Solutions