Garsdale Head

From the start, Garsdale Head rolls quietly through moorland and sheep-filled fields. The gradient isn’t brutal, but it teases. Just when I think I’m cruising, the climb stiffens and the wind tugs at me from all sides. There’s a sense of isolation here, only the rhythm of my pedal strokes and the distant sound of a brook to keep me company. The summit opens to bleak beauty, a fair reward for steady persistence. It’s the sort of climb that humbles and teaches patience.