“What I don’t want is a weekend surrounded by testosterone charged blokes who’ll make me feel inadequate on a bike” that was my plea to the man from Saddle Skedaddle, organisers of mountain bike holidays.

I must admit, it was the name of the company that caught my eye. It sounded fun.  Adventurous but light hearted, not taking itself too seriously. How I like to see myself I suppose! My New Year’s resolution was to use my mountain bike more (using it as a clotheshorse didn’t count) and to do more with my weekends. So the idea of exploring a new part of Britain, by bike, certainly appealed.  I liked the idea of staying somewhere without the hassle of booking it myself, finding other people to share it with, and not having to do all the necessary food shopping and cooking.  Mr. Saddle Skedaddle (Paul) assured me that all I had to do was turn up, with or without a bike (they could supply me with one if I liked). Perfect - although I did have to pay of course but given that it cost for two days, including accommodation and all meals, it seemed like a good deal.

I opted for a weekend in Derbyshire, an area I didn’t know too well, though I could have opted for two days in Exmoor, Yorkshire or the Brecon Beacons.   I arrived at Derby station, with my padded cycling shorts and suspiciously clean bike at the ready, feeling a slight trepidatious. What was I letting myself in for? What if I was the least fit of the group and had to drop out, shame faced half way through the first day’s cycling?  What if the men from Saddle Skedaddle were complete monsters, or boring?, my paranoid musings came to an abrupt end when a tall, smiling faced man appeared.

“Carole? Hello I’m Jim from Saddle Skedaddle.” He looked reassuringly normal, and friendly and by the time we’d reached our destination, a converted barn in the quaintly named Wirksworth, I felt like I’d known him for ages.

Also on the trip were twelve people of varying ages and backgrounds including a Canadian couple with their two teenage children. All incredibly friendly and some sharing my fear of bottling out.  As the evening wore on, I became more relaxed, helped perhaps by the soporific effect of the excellent buffet and some cold beers.  Jim discussed the next day’s route and assured us that we could go at our own pace and could stop at any time. Ian (the third and final Saddle Skedaddler) could pick us up in the minibus at any point.

Bed was a comfortable bunk in a room with a teacher called Jenny and a travel agent from Hull called Jan.  Maybe it was the country air, the beer or the complete peace and quiet but I slept like a log until nine when Ian’s rousing voice called us to breakfast.

The first day in the saddle was better than I’d hoped. The scenery was beautiful and just when I thought my poor legs couldn’t take much more of an upward climb, we’d magically start a descent and there’s be a stunning view to take your mind off your muscles.  At lunchtime Ian appeared with a van full of lovely bread, cheeses, fruitcake and chocolate - a real picnic feast.

After an exhilarating afternoon in the saddle we returned to base, had the most welcome hot showers ever and ate a hearty and delicious three course meal prepared by the Saddle Skedaddle trio.

The next morning, despite feeling that I could barely walk to the shower, I decided to bite the bullet and go for another dose of cycling with Ian at the helm. I knew that I could stop at any time and no one would think I was a jessie! Once back on the bike my aches and pains seemed to ease away and we had a wonderful day’s cycling including a picnic in the grounds of Chatsworth House.

By Sunday evening I felt that I’d known everyone for ages. My body had that satisfying ache that comes with enjoyable exercise and I felt that I’d had a complete break form the nine to five. I keep in touch with Jan and Jenny and we’re planning to meet up for the weeklong Saddle Skedaddle trip to Sardinia. The idea of exploring in the sun by bike is most appealing  - as is the Italian cuisine!

We may even consider one of the other further a field Skedaddle trips like Cuba or Chile – if we can save the pennies. Of course, we all reckon that we’ll be the least fit of the group, but there’s always the support vehicle to rescue us.

A weekend in the Derbyshire Peak District with Saddle Skedaddle

Carole Drayton