Riding into the peak of the storm at Coledale
Storm Ashley. Just a normal deep October low, but nowadays they give them names.
Sunday morning, usually busy with cars going up the pass, but this time deserted. More than ever people are put off by forecasts of rain… but wild weather is a lot more exciting than sunshine!
I set off for just a short bike ride, as I was getting over a nasty cold. I’d head up the Coledale track – near Keswick in the Lake District – which leads to the old mine.
The pass was quite sheltered, the road yellow with a thick layer of autumn leaves but with a stream running down it and wind roaring in the trees above.
Normally by this time in the morning the small Coledale car park would be full of vehicles with people and dogs setting off up Grisedale Pike, today there was just one car.
Soon out of the shelter, the landscape became one of twisting and writhing curtains of rain, the track ahead disappearing into sinister grey murk where the storm became more intense at the head of the valley.
Below, the burn – sorry, beck, in these parts – was in yellow spate, washing against steep exposed banks of shale where fresh rivulets trickled down, threatening a landslip.
I’d be worried if I lived in the village; temporary dams forming, then bursting, have caused major floods in the past.
The wind was gusting from all sides as eddies spun down from the steep hills above. One minute I was pedalling hard into the wind, then the next a big hand was pushing me from behind.
Above, spectacular sheets of rain spiralled and twisted with the gusts. I was nearly at the old mine now, meeting a single runner heading down, she laughed a greeting at me, another person sane enough to be making the most of the wild morning.
The waving curtains of rain became even denser, racing down in curls and ribbons from the high mountains. There was an approaching roar, then a big gust from the side forced me off the track. No, I’d be using artistic licence to say it lifted me up and threw me, but almost.
As I regained balance another gust hit the settling ponds of the old mine, picked up barrow-loads of water and hurled it across the track ahead in white sheets. Just missed a dose of sulphur, lead, cadmium and barium there…
A quick dash took me to the old mine buildings where I could join four sheltering sheep. Above, a high waterfall pours down crags at the end of the valley, I watched gusts of wind grab the fall like a hand and throw it upwards and sideways in white clouds.
I contemplated the next few hundred yards up to the base of the falls, but violent gusts from all directions were hitting the exposed track. I didn’t really want to risk being thrown off… so in a brief respite turned back down the valley.
Probably, with the gale behind me, I could have hit 50mph but kept hard on the brakes. Having just cured horrendous brake squeals, I didn’t though really want to wear them out again…
Here and there, “sleeping policemen” cross the track to divert water away – keep up speed and you can enjoy taking to the air as you cross them.
But the rain, suddenly, was clearing. The mountains at the end of the valley were re-appearing, stark against the grey sky. I’d been up at the head of the valley in the very peak of the storm.
An hour later, the first cars were heading up the pass.