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Where do I start with this tale of mayhem, masochism and misadventure? We all knew it was going to be tough, Himalayan Sherpas when asked about Tom Owen make elaborate excuses or run off wailing something about ill omens. The omens for this ride were so sick they were in intensive care and not expected to last the day. It was the middle of the monsoon which had apparently come early this year and we set off in good spirits up the Honister Pass on a nice, gentle 1 in 4 road climb.  By the time we reached the slate quarry at the top of the road my heart rate was around 240 (at least it felt terminal) and the rain was reaching the parts other rain doesn't reach. Like a bunch of wusses (OK, it was mostly me) we sheltered in one of the quarry sheds venturing out only when it became obvious such cowardly behavior was futile. A wide steep quarry road zig-zags up the side of the pass and we were soon reduced to pushing on the loose slate. Rain water pouring from my helmet made my right eye so sore that I had to close it and ten minutes later when I opened it again it felt slightly worse! Having climbed in to the clouds in the high quarry, fog and multiple tracks made the way ahead less than clear. I unpacked my Pocket PC and Memory-Map showed our position, route, altitude and what we were having for lunch. No chance of getting lost at least, I cautioned against dropping too far down the quarry road so we all shot off until we reached it's boggy bottom end. A little more GPSing had us back on track and what a track it was, cut in to the steep right flank of the Warnscale Beck this was the slipperiest rock I had ever ridden. I boldly sent Paul out in front as a 'mine sweeper' he dutifully located several sick, lethal patches apparently with his face. After three or more somersaults worthy of a Hollywood stuntman the conditions improved slightly, turning from green flowstone slick-rock to wet rubble and I took the lead from our brave but battered decoy. A wide double switchback allowed multiple line choices, all of them loose, large and lairy. At this point the rain stopped and the sky lightened, this has to be one of the most spectacular trails I've ever been down but many sections were just too steep and green to attempt, we never got the flow going. A couple of minutes later we reached the Lakeside trail and a mile or two of easy spinning and a few rideable climbs on the way to the foot of Red Pike. Some bright spark had re-laid the steep path with irregular slabs and boulders in the form of rough steps which we heaved our bikes up like hopeless slaves in a sad Escher lithograph, where there is simply no down. The general lack of down was beginning to get me er, down, when we reached the spectacular lake. Disappearing mystically in to the clouds was a red stairway to heaven, tell me we are not going up there said someone voicing everyone's worst fears. It was so obvious it was painful, it was about this time that the hikers stopped simply telling us we were mad and started taking pictures to prove to unbelievers that we had been there with bikes at all. How much worse could it really get after this? The answer was of course glaringly obvious: a lot. The path turned to loose scree and then rose up seemingly almost vertically through a rock gulley. Like ascending the down escalator this was really dumb and we were getting nowhere fast. You really needed to get your hands on the scree but dragging and carrying a bike made this option quite difficult. With a superhuman effort I scaled the rock face to the left of the gulley my bike being held precariously by it's front tyre at one point dangling over the precipice and looking like it was headed back to the lake without me. Finally we summited and chatted with another group of clearly gob-smacked hikers then slipped off in to the clouds finally pedaling for the first time in two hours it wasn't to last however. The summit ridge was rough stuff studded with rocky outcrops and thousand foot drops which we avoided as best we could.

Visibility at this point was around fifty yards and a sweet little downhill was beginning to develop, some mistake surely? With deep suspicion I checked the GPS and sure enough we were about to head off in completely the wrong direction on an illegal footpath. Back on track and in the opposite direction we hopped on and off the bikes scaling rocky crags and riding off-piste over tussocks and bogs. At some point the cloud lifted and the most beautiful views were revealed in a strangely unreal landscape resembling a painted fantasy movie backdrop; it was truly phenomenal. The time came when we would have to descend but the gradient was one in one and a half. I had a couple of goes but it was basically suicide and I had to dump the bike on wet grass where braking was the worst and only option. Accidentally dislodging a rock which gathered speed I was worried it would hurt someone but it only hit Paul so that was alright. A second larger missile bounced lethally close to an unsuspecting sheep's nose, it looked up suddenly in a very human "what was that whoosh noise?" reaction then went calmly back to munching grass. Unfortunately this gradient continued with only short rideable sections for more than halfway down the mountain culminating in a large boulder choked gulley where a rope would have again come in handy. Finally on the foot of the mountain a proper trail develops and we started to flow, I held open a gate with a tasty little step down for Paul and Phil to fly through then chased after them finding the going increasingly tough as the path had been 'improved' with stone steps. By the time I caught up with them they had stalled on a tight turn with stepping stones. I squeezed by and cleaned the section with a victory whoop even though I had no idea why they had stopped. To keep the wheels turning is everything so they lost that little battle for whatever reason. This joyous trail continued all the way down to the lakeside finishing at a difficult boulder slab so I dropped down off-piste on the grassy bank and waited for the others. Everyone had had a blast on it but now we would have to pay on the huge road climb back to the cars. The memory of the climb has mercifully faded but I didn't have much left at the top and I even declined an off road descent which would have added to the mileage as it was just too late in the evening. Arriving home after midnight I slept the sleep of the dead. Certainly none of us would do the route again but we are left with some of the most intense and in a way pleasurable memories of any of the 'rides' that year. It was painful, an insane adventure, dangerous, beautiful, crazy and simply stunning. I won't forget it for a very, very long time.