In Dent

August 2, 2024

Some TA news

We’re the only guests in the B&B today so there’s no competition for scoring the best seat in the small dining room, a window seat looking up the Main Street through the village. When breakfast comes we look at the embarrassingly large sausages that come with our full English - they really look more like a bratwurst, and I’m sorry now that I asked Rachael to include one in her order for me (because she doesn’t eat sausage herself) because I can barely finish mine.

Over breakfast we reflect on the decision we just committed ourselves to last night. All along we’ve left our plans for the final seven weeks of the journey open, not committing ourselves to. Specific route or even an airport to fly out from. Were booked through La Rochelle, but after that we left open so we’d have flexibility depending what the weather was like in the fall. All along though the assumption was that we’d end the trip in Nice.

That changed though when I priced flights back to Portland a few days ago and saw the price of the flight we’d want (a one stop with a connection in London) jumped almost $200/person since the last time I looked about a month ago. That was surprising enough that I priced out some other airports. As it turns out, Barcelona still has basically the same flight available at the price we were seeing before in Nice.

Price of the flight isn’t a great consideration on a nine month tour, but the longer I looked the more attractive ending in Barcelona looked. You might recall that because of a flight change fiasco back in March we flew into Barcelona with our bikes boxed rather than in the suitcases we’d use to fly them home in. So just like two years ago (when UPS lost our suitcas3s when we shipped them forward to Nice) we’ve once more got the problem of how to get the bikes home. Suzanne and Janos bailed us out last time by shipping their unused Bike Friday suitcases down to Nice (and thanks again!), but we can’t go back to that well again. So I’ve been assuming we’ll figure out how to get them boxed and to the airport when the time comes.

As it turns out, Barcelona looks like an ideal airport for that because they have an outlet at the airport that sells bicycle boxes and packing materials; and they also have a hotel inside the terminal. That sets up the easiest scenario we could hope for: we’ll book our final night in Spain at the airport hotel and have the bikes boxed up the night before departure.

So we bought our flight home, and now we can quit perseverating over where we’ll fly from or even whether we’ll go back to America at all. Nice is out, Barcelona is in, and I’m starting to stare at the map and think about how we’re going to get there from La Rochelle.

Rachael’s day

Unfortunately thinking all that through takes a lot of time - enough so that there’s not much left to talk about today and how we spent our layover day in Dent. Briefly then, as usual Rachael took a walk; and as usual it was affected by conditions on the ground. She brought back many photos and bundled them into a slideshow, but I yanked several of them I especially like to highlight in case you don’t have time to watch the 2-1/2 minute slideshow.

She couldn’t quite believe that the walking route passed through this slot. As slender as she is, it was still a very tight squeeze.

It’s wet in spots but she was really appreciative of all of the strategically placed planks and rocks to help keep her feet dry.

When she came here though she decided she needed to turn back and find a different route.

I wonder which way she’s looking here. That formation makes me think of the cirque we biked past yesterday.

I give up. Any theory about what we’re looking at here?

I don’t need your help here though. I know what she’s looking at.

Scott’s day

And I’m riding. I’ve got an energetic ride mapped out for myself: a loop that goes east up the Dee before crossing the high saddle separating Dentdale from the next Dale to the north carved out by the River Clough. From there I’ll follow the Clough downriver to Sedburgh before doubling back up the Dee again. In essence, it’s a loop circling the ridge to the north of town, the one crowned by Aye Gill Pike.

Before leaving the village I stop to take a few more photos of the place, because Dent is a very pretty place.

The view from behind our place. Were looking up the Dee here, in the direction my ride starts out on.

The view out the north end of town. That ridge ahead is the one I’ll be circling.

The town bank, formerly. Maybe the wheelbarrow is for carting off your withdrawal.

Another view at that ridge I’ll be circling. I think its high point is Aye Gill Pike.

OK. We’re finally rolling, heading east and upriver. The first four miles are easy.

Many of these older stone houses include dovecots.

Crossing Deepdale Beck. There’s a paved road going up here through Deep Dale and comes out at Ingleton that would look really attractive if it didn’t start with two miles at around 17%.

Still cruising along, following the Dee.

Four miles is all the fun I get for now though. When I come to the junction at Cowgill I leave the Dee and start climbing over the eastern nose of the fell I’ll be crossing. It looks fearsome, but the other choice here is to keep following the Dee up to the summit at Dale Head looks nearly as bad.

I’m facing a pretty ugly ascent, the road climbing a thousand feet in the next two miles. It’s a rounded profile that’s steepest at the bottom, with the dirt half mile being 15+% - an excellent excuse for walking and enjoying the scenery and sights along the road.

Again, from higher up. The village of Dent is out of sight, around the bend to the right.

About halfway to the summit I come to a milestone: Dent Station. The train still passes through here, so it’s nice to know it’s an option if the weather turns foul. All we’d have to do is push our loaded bikes up that 15% slope for a half mile in the rain, nd we’d be right there.

And it’s not just any old station - it’s the highest one in England! So that’s three superlatives in the last week: highest pub, tallest waterfall, highest station.

Pretty high! Unfortunately though, I’m still only bout halfway up.

So there’s still the other half of the climb. Above the station though the slope has backed off enough that it’s bikeable by the likes of me. It’s still pretty slow going though and still frequently interrupted by camera stops. Finally the summit comes in sight, but it’s taken me about two hours to get there - long enough that the weather has changed. It’s getting steadily darker and I start worrying about getting home dry when I crest and start plummeting off the other side.

Still climbing. The house on the left is beside the station, so maybe it was the station master’s home at some point in the past.

This shot in here is for orientation. The valley on the left is Dentdale that I climbed up out of; and the one in the right is the Clough that I’ll drop down to. In between is the ridge I’m circling.

Well, shoot. I’m finally at the top only to find the way’s blocked. Guess I’ll have to turn back.

Whew! They backed off and let me slip off. Its downhill all the way to Sedburgh from here.

The first two miles are steepest, dropping to Garsdale a station on the Clough River. I take them slow because I’m starting to distrust my brakes. The pads are getting worn enough that I’ll need to get them replaced soon. The Yorkshire Dales are a poor place to find yourself without brakes.

Once I reach the river though the miles ahead are more relaxing and very scenic, as I pass by one old stone house after another with the fells rising straight up on the other side of the river.

We’re looking up here at the other side of the ridge we saw from Dent.

I pass one of these old slate and stone structures after another. Each one seems worth stopping for.

I stop for one last photo here, and then there’s a serious mishap when I pick up my bike and hear a slight pop. When I start biking I realize my front brake has been injured and has lost all its braking power. At first I think I’ve lost the pads, but they’re still there. They’re just not seated right somehow. I think I must have done it to myself, laying the bike on its side in the roadside weeds while I climbed up to the fence to look over. My theory is that a vine or grass got hooked into the pads and pulled n them when I lifted the bike up. Something new to watch out for going forward.

I really like this setting. But was it worth losing a brake over?

So that’s a serious problem. As I was just saying, this is no place to be with insufficient braking power. Fortunately it happened down from the ridge or I’d have had a very long walk home; but the remaining twelve miles are bad enough. The worst of the descents is short and about 8-9% fortunately, but I take every descent seriously and slowly, and it’s a huge relief when the village comes in sight.

So now what, Rachael and I wonder after I’m home and have given her the bad news. Now what, she asks? Dinner, that’s what! And soon after we head over to Meeadowside Cafe to claim our table.

Let’s eat! We can worry about the brakes later.

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Today's ride: 24 miles (39 km)
Total: 3,070 miles (4,941 km)

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Jacquie GaudetThat's very odd about the brakes. I watch the Park Tool video on changing disc brake pads every time I get ready to do mine, and it seems every type of brake pad is securely installed. For example, mine have a screw and a lockpin. Now I'm wondering if that lockpin could somehow get caught on something (I lay my bike down a lot)--but then, the screw is in pretty tight and I use pliers to pull the pin off.
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3 months ago

Steve Miller/GrampiesThat train station might be just the thing to teleport to a bike repair option.
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3 months ago