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Published: June 23rd 2006
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Take a look at http://www.hill-bagging.co.uk/jonnymuir/CountyTopsEW.php - this shows what hills/mountains I have climbed and when. And http://www.hill-bagging.co.uk/jonnymuir/CountyTopsSC.php to show what's coming up.
Click on the map to the right and it shows the random route I've had to take.
It's not about facts and figures but so far 2,141 miles or 3,440 km and 47 hills and mountains.
The River Trent marks the western border of Nottinghamshire with Lincolnshire. And in a small village called Newton-on-Trent there's a toll bridge over the river. Cars stop and drivers pay a man in a kiosk a few pence so they can cross. Then the attendant presses a button to raise a metal barrier. A sign instructed me that cyclists cross for free. I approached the barrier and thought there was room for me to squeeze through on the left hand side. Ten yards away I realised there was no gap and no way of stopping. A car had just gone through and the barrier was coming down. All I was thinking was 'why hadn't I done my helmet up properly'. But instead of the barrier knocking me off I hit it so hard that the impact ripped the it out
of of its socket. It crashed to the ground and the attendant shouted at me to stop - there was little else I could do. You can't make a fast escape uphill on a broken bike. I'd bashed my arm but my ego was bleeding because there was a queue of motorists staring at me. The attendant told me I'd have to pay £10 to get it re-welded and even feigning injury didn't help.
The problem on my bike was to do with the rear wheel. The barrel which goes through the wheel was so worn that it wasn't driving the gears properly. So I was clunking my way through Nottinghamshire searching for a bicycle shop, which never exists when you want one. Then within one click of the gears I went from 24 to three - the gear cable had snapped. It is all fixed now at last.
Finally I arrived in the Peak District after 10 days in the flats and I was welcomed by rain and gale-force winds. Its wonderful to hear the pitter-patter of rain on a tent roof - but when it it turns in to a semi-hurricane the thought of spending all
day outside loses its appeal. Climbed Cheeks Hill (Staffordshire) and Kinder Scout (Derbyshire) with my brother in dreadful weather. On Kinder Scout the wind picked up sand and blasted it against our faces and legs. Just when I think it can't get harder, longer, wetter or more challenging it always does. The next day (Thursday) I woke at 5am chilled to the bone in my tiniest of tents. I had to cross Snake Pass, a high mountain road pass between Sheffield and Manchester. The wind whistled in my ears and the incredible gusts meant I was swaying across the road concentrating on staying upright whiile lorries whizzed past oblivious. But against these obstacles it makes the high of getting to the top that much greater.
The walk to Black Hill (Cheshire) was across desolate windswept moor. There was no path and I was lucky to find my way back to the road because mist came down so fast. Rain fell in ice-cold slanting squalls. There wasn't a soul up there apart from a mountain hare which galloped past me. Massive relief to cycle out out of this godforsaken place and get back down into the valley.
Now I'm
having a few days off - with my girlfriend Fi in Edinburgh - before heading north into Yorkshire and the Lake District, then of course Scotland.
And finally - I am trying to raise some money for men's cancer charity the Orchid Cancer Appeal so please if you can spare anything, visit www.bmycharity.com/V2/jonnymuir - thank you!
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Dan Hallam
non-member comment
How dare you...
describe poor fiona as a welsh bog! i see the resembelance though. cool map