Trev said he was going to look at the snow and I was glad of an excuse to ride in atrocious conditions. Winds of 40 to 50 mph making the maximum temperature of - 2 degrees feel more like - 10 coupled with persistent snow to make even a short run feel like an adventure.
My neighbours lined up to see us off.
Holbeam lane's deep 4x4 induced puddles have icy lids covered in snow waiting for unsuspecting trail riders as Trev found when his rear tyre went sideways, very suddenly as you can see from the tyre tracks
The water in the ford did not feel any colder than the air. The tarmac between lanes was covered in snow with huge sheets of ice beneath it anywhere water usually flows across the road and there were some unscheduled sideways moments on our way to Otter court which was less slippery than the icy tarmac beyond. We puttered all the way to end of Tipleyhill lane and slithered up Donkeytrot lane. The short grassy cut after the cattle grid was firm for once under it's crisp white coat.
Normally splendid views were replaced by threatening dark clouds bearing more snow as we followed the twisting byway down the white slope to Leighon.
I was surprised to see a path I had never noticed before highlighted by the snow on Bonehill down.
We stopped to take pics.
Between Pitton and Widicombe we slithered to a halt on an icy slope but tacking across the road and seeking grip in the gutter got us as far as Blackaton cottage lane. Or at least as far as the ice covered boulder field that precedes the step at the gate. Water that usually flows under and around the boulders had frozen then flowed over the ice, and frozen and so on building up a thick layer of glassy clear ice affording no grip to tyres or the soles of boots. Trevor realised this a moment before me.
After inspecting the slippery surface and trying vainly to first ride, then to merely stand up on it, we gave up and turned around, no mean feat in itself.
Widcombe was closed for winter
By this time we both understood well the meaning of the Yorkshire saying 'nithering' and headed back via main roads toward what passes for civilisation in these parts. Haytor is directly ahead through the murk.
I thought my face felt a little stiff with the cold but it was a case of beard icing and I was a little worried my mustache would snap off when I took my helmet off
Another of those days when I would not have gone out but was glad that I did. A severe weather warning advising of life threatening travelling conditions was imposed a few hours after we returned home.
