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England's Longest Downhill

Without exception, every biker loves downhilling, whether it be on or off-road. You may tell people that nothing beats a monster calf-busting climb and the wonderful sense of achievement you get when you finally crest the cause of all the pain in your legs, but I bet the smile on your face as you ride down the other side, using the minimum of effort to propel yourself at breakneck speeds is far greater than when you were struggling up the climb. Now think what that smile would be like if the downhill was four and a half miles long and descended an altitude of 2730 foot, with numerous changes in terrain, gradient and on occasions, weather conditions.

Just to the north of Keswick in the Lake District is one of Britain's few actual mountains. Reaching a height of 3054 foot above sea level, Skiddaw (pronounced Skidder) is a huge, rounded mountain formed of slate which towers over the town and Bassenthwaite Lake. From it's summit, on a clear day it is possible to see the Borders around Dumfries and Galloway, West Yorkshire, Helvellyn, Scafell and many of the other peaks in the Lake District as well as views out across the Irish Sea. It can be a beautiful hot day in Keswick and lashing with rain at the summit, with the top 1000 foot of the mountain being hidden in the clouds. And best of all, there is a bridleway which runs from the summit back into the outskirts of the town itself.

Skiddaw is one of my favourite MTB rides in the country, and is one which I have done on a number of occasions for one reason and one reason only - the downhill is second to none in Britain. I mean, four and a half miles, 2730 foot; it's so steep, it's impossible to ride up half of it. There's bits so technical, I've fallen off every time I've ridden it (although a few people have made it to the bottom intact).

I won't describe the climb, apart from to say that it is the same route as the descent (so keep an eye out for technical drops for later) and usually takes two and a half hours of carrying, pushing and riding to reach the summit. The looks and comments you receive from walkers are along the lines of "You're not seriously thinking of riding down this, are you?" and "I have trouble walking up here as it is, never mind with a bike on my shoulder". So instead of describing the route from a climbing perspective, I'll do it from the summit down.

Of the five times I've done Skiddaw, only once has it been clear at the summit. You are usually in the cloud itself and being battered by winds so before the off, you need to shelter for a while to get warm and let your eyes accustom themselves to the reduced visibility. From the off, the bridleway plummets straight down the upper slopes, the trail being wide with broken shale and slate as the surface. I have never had a cycle computer so could not tell you what speeds are reached, but as you are pedalling out and the wind really does sting, I would estimate that it's well in excess of 40mph. This terrain continues for about three-quarters of a mile with no change of gradient until it reaches a wire fence and gate which with the lack of visibility, comes up exceedingly quick, meaning that checking your brakes before take-off is a must. The terrain changes after the fence, with the ground being slightly more level (although still quite steep) is where the grass starts to grow again. The bridleway is a defined track on a well drained mud and rock surface and is characterised by drop-offs and ruts, with loose corners. Although it continues in a downwards direction, it is the only part of the trail on which you actually need to pedal. The trail skirts round the side of Little Man and onto the next gate. From here, it continues to the east along much the same terrain as before but with more of a gradient, enabling you to reach speeds that can scare the life out of you when approaching corners, drops or large rock outcrops (and I do mean large rocks - boulders the size of a cow's head which you have no option but to ride over). By the end of the moorland terrain, the distance covered from the summit is about two and a half miles.

Upon reaching the end of this, the trail turns a ninety degree loose corner and (this is where it gets really interesting) drops straight down the front of the mountain on a gradient of at least 1 in 2 over broken slate and massive rock steps. As you round the corner to be faced with this three-quarter of a mile drop, your heart is in your mouth and you will utter a small prayer - it is EXTREMELY scary. The top of the descent is probably the roughest, with the slate being very loose and in very large pieces. Huge chunks fly up from your wheels, the bike skitters about and (believe it or not) it is better to keep up your speed rather than attempt to brake. After a while, the chunks get smaller, it is easier to control the bike and your nerves are calmed…. and you are faced with a set of extremely uneven natural rock steps. It is possible to ride these slowly (and first time down the most probable method of doing it), but it is also possible to ride them flat out and jump them, the option which I usually choose and fail at completing. I reckon I've lost more blood on those steps than anywhere else. After contending with these, the trail continues down the mountain at the same gradient, with the slate becoming less frequent and the surface being characterised by drop-offs and ruts again. A gate is reached and when through, the end of the mountain proper is in sight, although it is still more of a descent than Boxhill. The trail here is smoother, and with a bit of nerve, it is possible to keep up quite a high speed down the twisty track and out onto the final straight - down a grass banking, through a small stream and up a small hill on the other side (for small read 70 foot from top to bottom). When you reach the top of this hill, if you are going fast enough (and it is easy), it is possible to jump for about 20 feet!!

The trail follows a dry stone wall through a field and out into a car park. For some, this would be the finish, but there is a last downhill back to the town which is a wondrous trail in its own right. This skirts the foothill of Latrigg and is characterised by stream crossings, roots (for there are trees down here), mad corners and water breaks. This final descent also drops 660 feet, so is one hell of a hill on it's own. It is the perfect way to finish the ride, with the surface being hard packed mud and even the ground around the streams being pretty solid. The corners are a pleasure to ride and the speed you can attain is somewhat frightening. The only really scary bit is the final plunge back to the start - water breaks every 40 foot and gorse bushes either side, which I guarantee you will end up catching whilst trying to dodge dogs and their idiot owners! By the time you reach the end, you will be high on adrenaline, unable to calm down and longing to get back up again for another blast down. It really is that much fun.

Some of my experiences whilst doing Skiddaw have made it all the more memorable and are always creeping into conversation when us lucky chaps who have ridden it get together. These include · Getting a group of eight of us riding it - the feeling of such a large group doing such a wonderful, adrenaline filled DH was second to none. · Our first time down, Keensy was on a six year old rigid bike with a dodgy frame, bent bars and canti brakes, and rode it in trainers, ripped jeans, a lumberjack shirt and a baseball cap turned backwards as he didn't have a helmet - out of the six of us that time, he was down second; just behind me. · Craig falling off his bike at the top of Jenkin Hill (before it gets rough), picking himself up and talking to a bunch of ramblers whilst checking his bike over. He got back on, turned round to say goodbye and before he'd turned a pedal stroke, went over the bars! · Neil nearly getting hypothermia on his first time up - the cloud had come in, it was about minus three and we still had another thousand foot to climb. We had to wrap him up in all our spare clothes. Despite our better judgement, he carried on to the summit and rode the whole mountain. · Also on our first time in the above conditions, Craig (self-proclaimed orienteer) managed to take us up Little Man rather than Skiddaw , then try to get us back on track by getting his compass out and suggesting we all walked behind him in a row. Whilst he was faffing about with his compass, we'd found out where we were on a map and had sussed that if we followed the fence next to us, we'd be back on the trail in no time. He was still sat there looking at his compass when the rest of us were back on the trail! · The second to last time we rode it, Keensy was on an old rigid bike with one V-brake and one canti. Shaun and myself (on full suspension DH bikes with disk brakes) had got ahead of him and through the gate. When we heard him approaching, we knew there was no way he was stopping and rushed to open the gate. With the gate open, he screamed through with his brakes fully on and a look of panic on his face that still haunts me now! · Upon seeing a female fell runner up ahead whilst climbing Jenkin Hill, Keensy (an ex-county fell runner himself) ran up to her with his bike on his shoulder and continued to run up with her chatting about fell running. To say she was stunned is understatement of the century! · Seeing Shaun taking the top part of Jenkin Hill flat out was one of the most impressive things I have ever seen. Taking the gradient and the surface into consideration, he must have been doing about thirty miles an hour where most of us mere mortals would do it at about twenty. Only a puncture hindered his progress. · The last time we did it, the weather at the bottom was beautiful but the summit was shrouded in thick cloud. We were sat in the shelter at the summit when all of a sudden, the clouds cleared for about a minute before closing in again. In that minute, the view took our breath away. It is only when something like this happens that you realise just how high up you are. Also, coming back down, the cloud cover remained until the top of Jenkin Hill, where in an instant we popped out into bright daylight and burning sun. It's experiences like that which make you so glad to be alive.

If you are ever up in the Lakes and fancy an incredible adrenaline rush, do yourself a favour and go do Skiddaw. It is an experience you will never forget and one which you will long to repeat.