6.30am-ish
Awake suddenly. Somebody farted, it could of been me but blamed Martin.
I can hear kids talking, I’d better get up before I shout at them. Where’s my shorts? Still wearing them.
Dragging myself out of the tent with a bit of a fuzzy head I glance over to Xizang who’s looking like a drowned rat after being out in the rain all night. Then I notice people, lots of people outside the toilets. After yesterdays ale this ain’t going to be a nice wait in the queue but after what seemed like a lifetime of crossing legs and clenching bum cheeks we realised it was just women queuing up. Relief! I’ll spare you the details.
Breakfast? Its not time yet (it was booked for 8am at The Manifold).
More hanging about plus its raining. That kind of drizzle that you only get in the Peak District that you can’t see or feel but it soaks you through.
7.30am
Slow walk down to the pub for breakfast. Really slow since the pub is only about 50 yards away.
The doors open but theres no one about. Can we go in early? The tables are set. Is the bar open? Lets risk it.
As we sit down, Martin runs off to the toilet, rather urgently just as staff appear asking if I’m ready to order. Just coffee for now please, order food when my friend comes back.
Martin’s back followed closely by the bar man, so it’s a full English breakfast for 2 but no tomatoes for me, I’m watching my figure.
While eating we’re listening to 2 families sat at the table behind us with most politest children we have heard for a long time, with please and thank you after everything when they were ordering.
Breakfast done and a second pot of coffee its back to the tents to dry them off before packing up but its still mizzling so its a losing battle. Tents packed away wet which isn’t ideal but we’re on a schedule, Martin has a bus to catch and they only come round here every couple of months or so.
With a bit of time to spare we get chatting to our neighbours from Liverpool, someone brings up the football…I nod politely and pretend to know what they’re on about. But then they ask about Xizang, ah time for a bit of PR and maybe a few more pounds to the poppy appeal ( www.bmycharity.com/carlspoppypootle ) but then its back to football (yawn) until I innocently ask Martin what time the bus is? Oooo in a couple of minutes. Right… I’ll give you a bell when I get to Ashbourne.
With Martin on the bus its time to unleash Xizang and it’s back on the road, uphill straight away.
Still on the same uphill towards Hartington with Lycra clad roadies zipping past me (I’m sure they hunt in packs) each one with a different greeting, morning… you’re carrying some kit there mate… ay up… you ok? You’re sweating a lot (piss off, its rain running down my face).
Top of the hill! Back in Derbyshire! And its zoom straight through Harrington, missed the turning from that scary fast down hill that’s now a mile and half up hill walk until a dead stop, forgot about this hill, wrong gear selected, time to engage feet.
Flat bit, pedal pedal pedal then weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee down hill through Biggin and I’m back on the Tissington Trail that’s now a long quick downhill. There’s less people about today due to the gloomy weather so I let Xizang loose and we’re soon pootling along at 20mph making steam train noises after checking there’s no one around. Then suddenly its pitch black! I can’t see a thing! Then I remember, tunnels and sunglasses don’t mix. Out of the tunnel, vision restored and I’m in Ashbourne.
11am
Ashbourne. Phone Martin, he’s in Costa with no outdoor seating for me and the old girl so we find a cafe on the market place and the only place to put Xizang is in a disabled parking space
much laughter and piss taking followed.
After the 5th cup of coffee of the day, having a laugh with the couple sat on the next table, admiring the waitresses and donating some money to a group of people cycling the length of Derbyshire for charity, we’re off again, Martin back on another bus and me taking a wrong turning and doing a couple of laps of Sainsbury’s car park until I’m back on track again with another short sharp up hill between the houses.
The suns over the yardarm.
Wynaston. The Shire Horse. 2 lovely views behind the bar. Peroni. Smiles all round.
As much as I love riding off road doing some proper XC, I do like these quiet back country lanes that are only just wide enough for a car with no FUUUUUUCK!!! Milk tanker!! Brake brake brake!!
That was close with about a foot to spare, a few deep breathes, a nervous laugh with driver and a check of my pants I was rolling again.
Etwall.
More old railway (The Great Northern Greenway) and you can we’re getting closer to home, stiles and gates to stop the chavs bring the nicked cars and motor bikes on here. So from here to Mickleover its stile pedal pedal pedal gate gate pedal pedal gate gate pedal pedal gate gate pedal and so on for a couple of miles until PUB! The Great Northern. First time I’ve been here I think so its a quick scoot round the back, park up Xizang and dive inside (seems a bit plastic) get served as quick as possible to get back outside to the girlie. Bottle of Corona this time with the usual slice of lime.
Back out on the road skirting the edge of Mickleover and Smackworth (no hand signals, they’ll have my watch) and then its 4 lanes of the A52 to cross but its Sunday and quiet, a quick scoot along left turn onto the last back lane of the day, its dead quiet down here past the crematorium (all puns intended) and into Markeaton Park. The sun is now blazing, there’s a fair on so there’s kids and chavs all over the place.
Derby City Centre.
Pub time. Decision time.
The Bell on Sadler Gate to start, nice little courtyard with a good patch of sun to mong in with another bottle of Corona listening to 3 student girls talk about sex and drugs…its good to be home. Beer drunk now off to The Tap, past the CAMRA beer fest on the Market place, I’m not paying £6 to get in a tent.
I nearly had a panic attack in The Tap…Nothing on draught?!? Gas issues apparently. I usually have that after I’ve drank the beer but not before. I’m lost. I don’t know what to have. I have no words. Peering in the fridge behind the bar I see something slightly appealing and settle for a bottle of Brooklyn Lager.
Slouching in a metal chair thats slightly burning my skin in the last rays of sun that gets in the garden I mutter to Xizang “Come on girl, time we were home”
Carl's Mini Adventures 