More Pennine Weather

Last Sunday it was extremely blustery half way up the Shef­field Hills, and by the time I got to the top along Long Lane out of Lox­ley it was very very extremely blustery, from the SSW, approx­im­ately.  But one could make pro­gress, in bot­tom gear on the flat, with the wind on the port bow.  The views were good — the val­ley and hills in autumn col­ours, the gal­lop­ing clouds in a vari­ety of shades of grey, with the occa­sional patch of ragged blue.  After a few miles I decided that at my age and with no com­pet­it­ive events other than sail­ing past Bell Farm boy racers com­ing up, a morn­ing out on the bike didn’t have to be about suf­fer­ing so I dropped down into the val­ley.  High Brad­field first, where a high wall sheltered me from a sharp squall.  The church here is mag­ni­fi­cent, and mag­ni­fi­cently sited on the hill­side. Very clas­sic North of Eng­land. Then down to Lower Brad­field on one of the most dan­ger­ous roads for cyc­lists I’ve been on for a long time — not traffic, road sur­face.  Pottered up the val­ley a short way, beau­ti­ful woods turn­ing through all the reds, orange and yel­lows. Spent 15 minutes look­ing at the world from the bus shel­ter while another shower passed by, then off along­side the Dam­flask reser­voir, more beau­ti­ful tree col­ours and so back in time for lunch, which felt well deserved.