Cycling in the Vale of York
Friends from the south think of Yorkshire as a hilly place: dales, James Herriot country and, Heathcliffe all come to their minds. I’m from York however, and York is very different from these images of bleak moorland and hillyness. Occaisionally an evening BBC weather forecast will dwell on the cold fog and mist that frequently lines the flat-bottomed Vale – isolating it from the hills that edge it. The biggest hills within 10 miles of York are therefore bridges over railways, roads and rivers. There are a lot of rivers across the Vale of York: the Swale, Ure, Nidd, Ouse, Derwent, and Aire. To the south the Vale of York becomes oh so very slightly hilly in the direction of Tadcaster and Doncaster where the limestone that was used to build York’s Minister forms low rolling hills that barely trouble the northbound progress of traffic on the A1. To the North the expanse of the Vale narrows between the jaws of the Pennines in the west and the North York moors in the east; the train north from York takes 30 minutes to traverse this until it reaches the Tees at Darlington. On a fine summer’s day the hills beckon from the beacon of Pen Hill above Wensleydale in the west to the white horse on Sutton Bank surveying the scene from its vantage point in the east: but the foreground is of big fields of wheat, barley and maize.
I’ve cycled all my life but after a significant birthday several years ago a new Cannondale tourer entered my life. I began by exploring the Vale of York – variety being provided by the deposits from the glacial Lake Pickering which line the Vale of York and occaisionlly pucker the otherwise flat basin, or from the challenges of finding quiet ways across the many rivers that flow down from the Pennines: the Ure, Swale, Ure, Nidd, Ouse, Wharfe and Aire. To add interest to my rides I’d got into the habit of taking the train out from York in one direction and cycling the other way: this enabled me to stretch out to the fringes of the flat basin, and also if I was crafty plan the day with the wind on my back. This way I got to the Jurassic cliffs of Scarborough, the chalk downland of the wolds west of Hull, Red Sandstone outcrops north of Doncaster, Gritty Gritstone around Sheffield, and coal measures and gypsum on the way back from Durham and Middlesbrough. That’s 200m years of geological history right there.
The highest English public roads: the 26 cols and cotes of the Pennines
After two years cycling in the Vale of York I began to realise I had to tackle some real hills. Hence began my self-set challenge to cycle over all of the 500m plus public roads in England starting or ending the journey from my backyard in York. By the standards of round the world cyclists, or those who have cycled Tibet or the Andes, it is nothing – but if your starting point is the Vale of York then it is true adventure!
I found the “Compendium of High Roads and Road Passes in Great Britain” on the site of Alan Kind (hodology – is the study of roads apparently). The list is also available via OCD, which says it all really. The website reference is in fact nothing to do with compulsive disorders but instead is taken from the French “Ordre to Cols Durs”; either way it does what it says on the tin. (The UK club called OCD merged with Audax UK in 2013.)
There are 26 public roads in England that peak at higher than 500m, the highest of which are at 627m (there are two at this height). All are in the Pennines; to my surprise not one was in the Lake District – perhaps because of the deep etching of the Lake District during the last ice age. The most southerly of England’s 500m roads is the “Cat and Fiddle” on the A537 between Buxton and Macclesfield at the head of the Mersey and the Weaver; the most northerly is across Swinhope Moor west of Allenheads in the catchment of the Tyne.
Table of Public Paved Roads in England over 500m
High roads in the North Pennines
High roads in the Yorkshire Dales
High roads in the Peak District
The four roads above 600m are all in Weardale. It is also around Weardale where the biggest concentration of high roads exists – half of the 26. The Pennines are at their highest in this area. Granite underlies Weardale in the geological “Alston Block” – and as granite is slightly lighter than the surrounding rocks the block has risen up to form the highest part of the Pennines – criss-crossed by a cluster of high roads across bleak moorland. It is also no coincidence also that this is an area of lead mining. Over 400 million years ago the molten granite that intruded the rocks beneath Weardale, and this ultimately provided channels for ore-rich fluids that subsequently caused the lead mineralisation of the otherwise barren sandstones. Weardale is to English high roads as the Skye Cuillins are to Scottish Munros.
So I set myself a challenge of tackling all these 500+m English roads. The only other rules I set for myself were (1) each had to be crossed in full (no sneaky runs up to a pass and back the same way), and (2) that each had to be covered in a day trip that either started or finished at my back yard gate in York. Typically I would therefore either begin or end my day by travelling with the bike on a train. The challenge could be carried out in this way from many other major towns and cities in the North; or as part of a week long camping trip; or via a series of day trips from a car.
Routes taken from York
Tan Hill: Britain’s highest pub
As the spring days got longer in 2014 I set off one early May morning by train from York station to Kirkby Stephen and disembarked into shockingly cold air at 8am. The A road from Tebay runs over outcrops of grey-white limestone. The limestone had formed when the North was on the equator and the limestones were laid down as corals and shell-rich white sands and sediments in warm shallow waters. By contrast I was frozen to the bone as I cruised down the steep hill from the station down into the town, and it was ten minutes before I really started pedalling and getting warm.
Buttertubs and Fleet Moss: ready for the Tour de France 2014
Kirkby Stephen was also to be the start point for my second trip into the Yorkshire Pennines in June (2014). The trip was to take in the three passes on a route from north to south between the Eden Valley, Swaledale, Wensleydale and the Wharfe: Tan Hill (again), Buttertubs Pass and Fleet Moss. I like trips that follow a natural line. This time on reaching Tan Hill I turned right without pausing to allow myself to be tempted by breakfast and descended into Thwaite and thence over Buttertubs Pass to Hawes. Preparations for the Tour de France were very evident from here to Hawes over Buttertubs: much of the road surface had been resurfaced in fine sugary black-top, and in other places patches were as smooth as the rivets on an aeroplane wing. The Tour de France was to pass in the opposite direction over Buttertubs three weeks later, and given the large number of faster cyclists coming the other way it really did feel as if I was doing something wrong. It is quite a short and sweet pass in my view – once a steep hairpin is hauled up in the lower part of the valley one is soon at the top. It is 526m according to the OS map.
Fleet Moss (589m) from the north is an unrelenting rake. From Gayle, just beyond Hawes, the road lies provocatively straight ahead for 3-4 km to the summit, and the final section is a very steep pull which is made easier if you’ve space on the road to slalom. Fleet Moss’s claim to fame is the highest road in Yorkshire. However Cam High Road, a dead end road which spurs off the Fleet Moss road, also peaks above 500m, and therefore the tick-list driven approach to outdoor activities would mean I would have to return here at some point to finish the challenge. The top of Fleet Moss, as Buttertubs, is made up of the grey or brown fine-grained millstone grit and carboniferous sandstones that form the roof of the Pennines in many places. It tends to form a wet landscape lined with tussocky moorland grass and peat bogs.
From Fleet Moss it is a steep and exciting decsent from down into upper Wharfedale, moorland at first, then followed by long sections coasting along the river, and then ultimately to Kettlewell. Once down below the level of the sandstones the limestone landscape is softer, greener and drier. From Kettlewell back to York there isn’t much choice but to follow the unrelenting dips and bumps on the busy B road via Hebden towards Pateley Bridge. I turned off down the Washburn Valley, and stopped for lunch at the Smiths Arms in Beckwithshaw (HG3 1QW). I arrived in York without having crossed a major river from Buckden high up in Wharfedale to the area close to York, south of the Nidd, called Ainsty.
The Great Southern Drove Road, Nenthead, Hartside and on to Scotland.
As midsummer approached the opportunity to do a very long ride began to appeal. Getting to Scotland from York, before a possible referendum outcome that might have led to a border post being erected, seemed like a good target. Having gone over the highest pass in Yorkshire I was spurred on by the prospect of going over the highest road in England. So in July (2014) I left the house at 4.30am and headed steadily up that long flat northern extent of the Vale of York up towards Barnard Castle and Middleton-in-Teesdale, crossing the Swale twice near Brafferton and Great Langton. The Tees dominated the upper section of the route to the hills – the first crossing of which was by the 1831 suspension bridge at Whorlton. The bridge was originally built to carry coal to Yorkshire from County Durham and is the oldest bridge of its kind in Britain with its original chains intact (see The Durham Cow). To hit County Durham and its smart blue and gold “Land of Prince Bishops” road signs seemed quite exotic, as did passing High Force at the upper end of the Tees – an iconic if little-known North of England tourist highlight. I took the road over from the Tees to the Wear Valley via Swinhope Head (607m) – where I rested at the top to eat succulent pre-packaged melon slices – not quite what our forefathers in these parts would have expected. Swinhope Head is on the Great Southern Drove Road – this line continues on the north side of Weardale over Scarsike Head in the Great Northern Drove Road, and hence connects high Teesdale and Weardale with the gentler pastoral landscapes of the Tyne near Blanchland.
The highest road in England is between Stanhope to Alston (A689) at Killhope Cross at the head of the Wear, and east of the village of Nenthead (627m). There is a wild and desolate climb past old lead mines, scandinavian stands of pine trees, and heavily eroded orange clay river banks. The descent into Alston ends with a jarringly disconcerting “olde worlde” high street. Give me smooth blacktop any day over badly laid cobbles. I left Alston on the main road through to the Eden Valley, this is a long but gentle climb, which ended with a lunch stop Hartside cafe along with most of the motorcyclists of North West England. There is a spectacular view over the fault escarpment down to the Eden Valley and across to the Lake District from Hartside.
The descent from Hartside is long and sweeping – borne of the down-faulted block of the Eden Valley which brings Permian sandstones around 2km below the level at which they’d originally been laid down. I turned off to the north and then made my way through the red sandstone villages on back roads through to Corby Bridge, a handy 1834 foot/bicycle path attached to the Weatherall railway viaduct over the River Eden. From Carlisle, Scotland is still some distance, over towards the Esk at the unattractive but intriguing Metal Bridge, made even more unattractive by being squished in next to the M6. Naturally there had to be a photo-stop at the “First House in Scotland” and the The Old Toll Bar; the border at Gretna is formed by the River Sark. From there to Lockerbie is another fifteen miles – I arrived there at about 5.30pm.
Weardale cycling: a cluster of over half of England’s highest roads
I had a summer family holiday in Swittzerland to consider how best to tackle the remaining 18 roads. There was a psychological advantage I figured to tackling Weardale early on through a blitzkreig. It is a long way to Weardale from York, and much as I appreciate the subtle pleasures of the Vale of York I was reluctant to see the outcome of the long ride up to Middleton crystallising in only two of three more ticks. So a monster day out was planned for late September (2014). I left the house at 5am and was treated to the cool autumn nocturnal vapours rising from the shallow streams and water courses along the road from York to Brafferton. I crossed the Swale that morning at both Brafferton and Richmond. By just after noon I had arrived at the first high road at Yad Moss on the B6277 in upper Teesdale, after following an increasingly empty landscape once beyond the unusually busy Langdon Beck which was holding its annual agricutural show that morning.
The idea of traversing another eight passes that day seemed pretty implausible, but one by one I made it over Dowgang Hush, Black Hill, Swinhope, via Allenheads to Burtree Fell, via Cowshill to Scarsike Head, Race Head, Shorngate Cross (descended and re-ascending from Allenheads to ensure I’d traversed it properly), and finally Cuthbert’s Hill. The route from Rookhope to Shorngate Cross was probably the most interesting of these – Rookhope has some very impressive lead smelting chimneys and mining museum. Shorngate Cross is a popular stopping point for people on the Coast to Coast route from St Bees to North Shields. By the time I’d reached Hexham 12 hours or so later I’d climbed around 3500m – not bad for a day out from the Vale of York.
Park Rash: A certified Killer Hill
With the days getting shorter my ambitions were drawing in too. In mid November (2014) I left Gargrave station to head north to Kettlewell to ascend Park Rash. There is quite a pull out of the valley north of Kettlewell on two long hard hairpins. I’d driven down it after a fell walk three weeks previously and that was bad enough.
The top of the pass was enveloped in a damp frosty mist which stayed with me all the way down the long descent through Coverdale – its thick enveloping airs made me feel I was in a tunnel the whole way. I’ll go back another day and see Coverdale by bike properly. I crossed the Cover and Ure at East Witton, the Ure again at Ripon and finally the Ouse at Aldwark toll bridge – free to cyclists of course. Lunch in Bishop Monkton at the Masons Arms.
The remaining Dales passes: Cam High Road, Lamps Moss and the Coal Road
Cam High Road is unique amongst the 26 in being a dead-end road – at least as far as normal vehicles are concerned. It is immediately west of Fleet Moss and any efficient “bagger” would have ticked this one off on their visit to Fleet Moss – I hadn’t of course. So I first set off with this objective in the dark midwinter days between Christmas and New Year. After meeting a viciously steep ascent to Greenhow from Bewerley, south of Pateley Bridge, I then lost the will to live against a strong headwind that slowed me to 10km/h on the downhill near Stump Cross caverns. This was time to stop. So I chose fish, chips and mushy peas gathered round the coal fire of The New Inn in Appletreewick (3* for food; 4* for ambiance) and forgot about Cam High Road for three months.
By March (2015) the prospects looked better. From York I found the easy way over Greenhow was via Menwith Hill, and then set off up Wharfedale reaching the top of Fleet Moss, with its sprinkling of snow, five hours after leaving the York. Cam High Road runs west from Fleet Moss and ends in empty moorland on the Pennine Way. Here, at Kidhow Gate, after the most blank of summits, I turned north to descend the bridleway of West Cam Road towards Gayle and Hawes. This I figured would make an elegant circuit, rather than a retracing of the route back to Fleet Moss. Big mistake. The descent to Gayle would be difficult enough on a mountain bike: my poor touring bike suffered the abuse of snow, loose brick-sized cobbles, coarse rock chippings, and plenty of awkward deeply incised muddy, or alternately rocky, ruts. Luckily there were few people around to hear my foul-mouthed cursing – by the time I got to Gayle a good hour must have passed and I was simply glad to be able to pedal without worry over Buttertubs to Thwaite. Scones, jam and chocolate milkshake in the Keartons – to note I’ve twice since arrived here during the day to find it closed.
From Thwaite my route took me through the cleft of limestone cliffs of Wain Wath Force at the head of the Swale, over a grey and snowy Lamps Moss, and onto a wild descent across Mallerstang into Nateby. Here I made the decision to finish the Dales 500m passes and head south over the Coal Road between Garsdale and Dent station. I learned afterwards that this route was a common proving ground for local cycle clubs. It was a tough ascent above Garsdale station and I wished it could have been in the first 10km of the day not the last. Still it made the low winter sun over Dentdale all the more rewarding.
The Peak: Holme Moss, Snake and the Cat
There are only three 500m passes in the South Pennines so I’d arranged to meet my friend Richard in Glossop in April (2015) as part of a tour. I set off from York at around 5am and worked my way through Wakefield and then over Emley Moor. The transmitter there is the highest free-standing building in Britain – beating the shard. From Holmfirth I headed south over Holme Moss – with a strong wind from the south this turned out to be far harder than I imagined. The summit is bleak, and I sheltered from the wind behind the boundary marker, whilst having a series of snacks that I deemed to be breakfast – until heavy rain made even that unpleasant. The heavy rain remainined with me until I arrived at Glossop railway station 45 minutes later to meet Richard. Once he arrived the sun came out – so whilst he was dry I was a drowned rat. We took the gentle ascent on the busy road over the Snake Pass – and were rewarded with the very long forest-clad snaking descent (is that why it is the Snake?) down to Ladybower.
We stopped in Castleton for lunch, buoyed up by an enormous bacon and egg roll we all set off over Winnat’s Pass – well it happened to be on the way to the Cat and Fiddle. Half way up the heavens growled angrily at us, and at once point I was blown off into the verge in a heavy squally downpour.
The road west of Winnats towards Dove Holes is gorgeous calm high limestone moorland. I left Richard by the pub at Sparrowpit (great name!) and headed down into Buxton. The road up to the Cat and Fiddle is a long, but not very steep ascent. I had expected lots of motorcyclists at the Cat – but the continuing low cloud and rain seemed to have put most off that day. The descent from the Cat towards Macclesfield is spectacular – the Cheshire plain being hidden behind folds of green ridges until one is almost upon the town. The train back had me back in York a little after 6pm.
Fleak Moss, the Stang, return to Weardale and Langdon Fell (627m)
To complete the English Cols and Cotes I was going to have to return to Weardale. In June 2015 I passed a balloon festival near Leyburn and hit the hills with a particularly sharp start on the ascent up Fleak Moss from Newbiggin. The descent spectacularly winds through old mine workings and purple heather. The ascent of the Stang north of Reeth is a lonely but gentle climb; the road onwards to Stanhope has a saw-tooth profile as it is cleft by a large cliff left over from quarrying.
A stop at the Chatterbox cafe in St John’s Chapel gave the the fuel to complete the 26 cols and cotes with the ascent up to Langdon Fell. I feel this road should have a marker on it – denoting it as England’s highest road (actually it shares this according to Ordnance Survey with the road over Nenthead). Instead, as with so many Pennine cols it is marked by a cattle grid and stone wall. From Langdon Fell it felts downhill all the way down the back of the Pennine Anticline to Darlington 50 km away – and the train home.
The 27th: Great Dun Fell
The list of the 26 roads in England is as far as I know a correct list of all of the paved public roads in England that top 500m. However after I’d completed the challenge I realised I’d missed an even higher paved road – which was private – but on which one could cycle: Great Dun Fell. At the top is a civilian radar station – and its perfectly surfaced road leads all the way to 848m. It must be the highest paved road in the British Isles.
Of course it had to be done to complete the challenge properly. I set off in April to tackle it, leaving York at 5am. As I ascended Wensleydale I began to think my chance of success was going to be limited by a capping of snow on the tops. Painful driving hail over Lamps Moss gave me even less confidence. However by the time I reached Long Marton, below Great Dun Fell, the sun had come out, there was no snow on the top, and it was time for a pub lunch at another Masons Arms.
It took me about 1h 15m from Long Marton to reach the top. The route is the best – though it isn’t the long gentle ascent one might hope for, there are sustained sections at 12-18%, and some short sections above 20%. The road is lined by snow poles, and first ascends the blunt nose of a ridge and past some old mine workings, before entering into the cleft of a steep-sided valley. Eventually it reaches a col and views of Upper Teesdale come into view: the final section curves up the final slopes to the radar station. The view from the top is marvelous – over the Eden Valley to the Lake District and into Upper Teesdale, and Yad Moss to the east. There’s no traffic – and its very quick coming down!
—oooOOOooo—
Yorkbadger 