It was great to be in Yorkshire, notwithstanding the awful weather and threat of sudden localised lockdowns. We were staying north of Bradford, not far from Haworth where it is all rolling hills and grippy tarmac and cobbles and dilapidated mills. I love it there and visit regularly because it is where Mum lives and if I don’t visit then I’ll lose a third of my readership.
I planned my second ride to take into account alleged better weather. The wind dropped, but it was still pretty wet and miserable. I wanted to have a look at Shibden Wall, a famous cobbled climb which crests up above Halifax before throwing you down a cobbled descent into the town. Simon Warren rates it highly, it might even be in his first book of climbs. To get to it you need to drop down into a very steep sided valley, then up a glorious bit of smooth tarmac called Lee Lane. Halfway up there is a brutal transition into classic Yorkshire cobbles, right at the steepest bit.
It’s worth saying that people love a good UK cobbled climb, but a lot of them a pretty much a waste of time, namely the cobbled element is the only thing they have going for them. Shibden Wall isn’t one of those. It is steep – not overwhelmingly so – and long. It has two hairpins and it gets steeper all the way; classic hill climb fare. It is probably about 13%, that’s a guess, and I can’t be bothered to google it, but this is made much worse because you can’t really get out of the saddle and it’s right on the ‘get out of the saddle’ threshold. Essentially, you’re churning over the gear, sat down, and trying to find a line. It was wet and greasy like an old chip supper when I did it, just to make matters worse. To summarise, it was hard, beautifully technical and unlike any other climb. It was quite a joyous experience. Although there were plenty of people on t’internet who suddenly started banging on about Trooper’s Lane, also of Halifax. By my reckoning there at least 4 or so beastly cobbled climbs in and around Halifax – the other side of the Wall is Ploughman’s Lane. Put it this way, I descended on the pavement.
I climbed up out of Halifax to the desolate moorland on the road to Rochdale. I’ve been up here before at Christmas time, with needles of ice on the pylons and a solid sheen of watery glass on the reservoirs. This time I wanted to ride down Cragg Vale, just for a breather. It’s a 5 mile descent to Mytholmroyd, dropping back into the Calder valley on the way to Luddenen, so is a real blast. I wanted to have another go at Luddenden Foot, a climb I’d been near in 2012. One way out of the village was used in the National Hill Climb about 20 years ago, a huge angry beast of road clawing up the side of a mountain. However, there’s another one called Stocks Lane which is really horrid and rolls up towards Mixenden. It climbs about 650 feet in under 2 miles and is a whopper. With the benefit of a tailwind I survived the experience, but it was a close thing.
The moorland up above Bradford, places like Denholm Clough and Ogden, is beautiful and at times eerily empty. Everyone craves space and solitude, now more than ever, but these wild places are as quiet as anywhere I’ve been. In fact, there is a route across the highest point, called “Cold Edge Road”, and it is a transcendent place, literally lifting you up above the landscape, the sea of current anxiety, of people and places, work and furlough, fear and loathing, to a place where no-one else goes. And it is surreal, because right up at the highest point of Warley Moor you can join the Halifax Sailing club.
It was a good few days.