Helvellyn: Hell's Ridge Feature     Back to: Helvellyn Hell's Ridge Feature      Home

The chickens were out
The event details for this mammoth slog had been up for months and it was attracting a fair bit of interest but in the end only three of us were brave enough to go the distance. Except, Mark soon let on that he'd been the only one who hadn't read the Forum postings, so he'd signed up not knowing quite what he was in for! Fair play to him as he hadn't chickened out at the last minute. Also it clashed with the almost peerless Dyfi Enduro which attracted eight of our riders. As with all mountain bike rides it seems, this one started on a steep gradient and we nervously quizzed Tom for a projected finishing time. We set out on the dot of ten and that put us returning somewhere between five and seven-o-clock! Nine hours of this was going to kill us. Soon however the climb relaxed and views opened out dramatically in to the spectacular steep sided valley of Grisedale. After a gentle trundle the trail bridges the stream, then splits in to multiple lanes of grass and embedded boulders. Even though the gradient is slight we were soon off and pushing whilst the weather began a schizophrenic, Jeckyl and Hyde routine. I was determined to ride as much of it as possible, which turned out to be not much. The embedded rocks would have been tough on their own but the park authorities have filled much of the rest with loose stone which defeated hard rear-wheel efforts in a trice.
Hail Mary! 
We kept up a good pace nevertheless and soon reached Grisedale Tarn where we rode a further pathetic two hundred yards along it's bank. Then we got right back to pushing, carrying and cursing our way up the increasingly steep mountain ahead. We'd been pacing ourselves against a pair of hikers who were a few hundred yards behind us, now they had it down to a hundred whilst we'd stopped to suck on energy gels, this gave us the impetus and energy to race for the summit. It was then that the loony weather began to get serious with volleys of white hail ricocheting from our helmets and stinging exposed skin. I'd been in short sleeves up to this point but this was hurting and my macho streak ended whilst Tom looked like he could make good use of his leg armour without falling off. The hail continued on and off, as we rode the first level trail on the top and doubled it for the summit.
Route canal work 
When we reached the summit shelter, the temperature had fallen to around two degrees and the wind chill was about minus twenty. We stopped to don more jackets and gloves and I discovered a slight flaw in my preparation, I only had one full finger glove. So it was that I came to be riding one handed, with the other frozen digits stuffed down the side of my shorts to bring back their feeling. The relentless wind bit cruelly at exposed skin leaving the left side of my face so numb that it was like a trip to the dentist, whilst having your mouth open to breathe meant eating hail and having that unattractive sky-diver 'blown wide face' look. It was in this state of anaesthesia that we reached the top of Lower Man and looked long and hard at the steep, loose drop on it's North face: crikey. After five seconds I decided to give it a go and dropped my front wheel gingerly over the edge. The loose stones gave scant traction for a steep descent, I rapidly pumped the brakes with the emphasis on the rear and staying away from the huge drop on the left. A sequence of Zigzags and rocky outcrops followed with one huge step where I got my weight way back and kept rolling. It seemed an age before I neared the bottom and my adrenaline had dried up as I whooped in to the last turn and asked some passing walkers to forestall that helicopter rescue, I was alive! Mark and Tom followed some way behind, they'd thought better than to attempt a couple of the hazards, smart chaps those two. Still, cleaning the descent in that wind left me so high I completely forgot about my numb face. As Mark led strongly up the next climb I was soon off and pushing and had chance to take a picture looking back at Lower Man.
Pick your own crash zone 
Had we really ridden down that insane looking edge? The Helvellyn ridge rolls up and down and we came to a fast, loose stony descent next followed by a wide plateau of spiky rock which challenged our suspension. This bumped us all the way to the North end of the ridge and another black diamond descent which has no official line at all. I love this kind of 'pick your own' frenzy and soon had chosen almost exactly the wrong line, and was chucked off by some hideous loose bricks. My rear brake was feeling the anaesthetic too, the lever having pulled all the way to the bar, we fixed it with a few turns of a tiny Allen key and shot off towards the manic lower section which had a trail to die for, I mean on. I soon raced well ahead again and straight in to big trouble, realising belatedly it was both too steep and too tight in the corners. I elected to jump off and the lads walked it, smart boys. Racing across the wide grassy stretch ahead was spiced up with drainage channels to hop but spoilt slightly by the dead straight line up the next climb, visible the whole way across. We trudged up and squelched our way over boggy grass to reach the top of Great Dodd. More off-piste action followed as we picked our own line over grass tussocks and gulped as the off-camber approached 45-degrees. This sort of riding is always a gamble, you'll never see the hole that takes you out, until afterwards, so reaching such high speed is kind of stupid, in a fun way! A trail develops here for a while and so do the bogs, with characteristic two foot steep drops in to squelching holes many of which could be cleared at the speed we had going on!
Walk on Water 
As the plain flattens out in to a wide bog we were amazed to find the whole thing was rideable even though it was soaking. We stretched our botanical knowledge to pick firmer lines, avoid the Sphagnum and wasn't that Bladderwort? Steer well clear. The reward for this scientific slog was rolling off on to a brilliant natural singletrack, which isn't steep but is fast and furious with alternating high and low tracks, drop offs and jumps aplenty woohoo! We joined the C2C doubletrack here, turning left and climbing gently and steadily towards a fantastic loose doubletrack raceway. This was scary stuff once more as we hopped from edge to centre following the least stony strip let speed hit top whack, then it's too late to slow down as it fizzles out and you're bouncing on boulders. Mark stuck to my rear wheel this time, I couldn't shake him as the pair of us overtook Tom and were going way too fast to slow for a criss-cross of ruts and rocks ahead. Mark reckoned my rear wheel was all over the place and it certainly had felt like riding a hardtail with the rear brake stiffening up the suspension. Left on the road at the bottom of here and miraculously we were all well stocked enough to bypass the pub and double up through the farm, past the bouncing collies and on to the foot of the Fisher Gill climb. The sun was shining now and this ascent started as it meant to go on, straight up. It wasn't long before we were climbing out of the pretty valley and back on to grassy tundra once more. Unfortunately this Bridleway was steep enough to kill Trigger and Champion the Wonder Horse so the narrow path ended at the waterfall where mere mortals mostly turned and went down again. We pushed on and on and on however. This was ankle straining stuff and we just had to pick our own lines up the steep valley side over grass and rock, wondering if we would be the only ones daft enough ever to do so.
Piste-off 
Eventually we met a trail and again we could see all too clearly what was coming up on the other side of the boggy plateau. This was insane! Do all the trails have to go straight up like that? I'll spare you the tale of suffering and cut to the top where yet again there was no trail and we slogged off-camber over grass tussocks for half a mile to reach the top of White Side. Immediately almost all the pain was forgotten (what is it with that?) we were stood at the top of a visibly huge downhill and the air was filled with the electric buzz of the on-coming testosterone driven dance with death, or at least severe bruising! This was to be no Formula 1 qualifier though, After the first quick straight it heads down at an irritatingly constant 30-degrees. Too steep for high speed and not quite technical enough for constant thrills. Still, the thrills were provided by the loose surface and the need to slow right down for the flat corners or risk sliding off in to the abyss. What it was doing, was cooking our brakes, I wish I'd brought waffles, we could easily have toasted, nay burned them on our glowing rotors. The trail split to two and I took the steeper option, now I was having fun, way off the back as the lads slowed a little on bigger rocks to my right.
Any takers for a re-run?
As the trail finally slacks off we re-grouped, they weren't far behind, these guys were getting better by the moment. The ride down the valley on near doubletrack didn't look so much fun but actually it was a hoot with jumps and a rocky ford plus more of the trademark, local loose stone to get us panicking, just go easy on the brakes over that stuff. Even near the bottom of here the road still thrilled, with evenly spaced drainage channels, sliced through twin concrete tracks challenging us to make spot on speed hops at thirty plus. The whole ride was a triumph of bike over mountain and the 'novelty walk' title it had earned wont stop us from doing it again some Sunday quite soon. Are you man/woman/daft* enough to join us?
* Delete as applicable.