Peter is being rather cryptic there about our day out in the high peak, so I'd better fill you in. Peter hasn't, for example, mentioned putting his cape on near the top of Holme Moss (when it then promptly stopped raining), while we gently pottered on. The forceful headwind though prevented his regrouping and our caped companion seemed to take ages descending down the southern side of the hill.
Eventually we reconvened and Peter immediately overruled our suggested shortcut, insisting instead that we gallop for Glossop. Well, the cafe there is just *so* nice, and I did welcome the 'fast breakfast'.
The Snake then called, again into a variable wind. Damien did a sterling service to pace me along when stronger legs (and lungs) took the remainder of our group a few yards ahead. Over the top we then delighted in a flowing descent toward Ladybower, though eventually realised that Pete and Steve had tailed off and were nowhere to be seen. Well they can't have taken any wrong turns - there aren't any. And the traffic was still flowing well so they weren't blocking the road with an accident. So it had to be a minor mechanical. If fact it was two, with Peter successfully repairing his front puncture on the 2nd attempt. Meanwhile, we'd taken solace at a tea van and were trying to stay warm.
Next came the Strines. Always a delight, though now we'd turned to put the breeze on our backs and were ready to make good steps toward home. But Pete had other ideas and promptly broke a spoke, thus suffering a further mechanical malady. Eventually the wheel could be made to *just about* run through the frame, though in a rather wobbly fashion and now with only one brake that left Pete understandably cautious especially on the downhill bits.
So that's how we then limped back to Huddersfield where, after having said our goodbyes, Damian apparently caught the same misaffection and promptly snapped a gear cable. The western section though had homes to go to while it was still Sunday. Little good it did us - 'blue van man' seemed intent on killing at least one of us on the narrow road up to Ainley Top. There you go. Same again next decade - its the Dales for me from now on!