Hamsters On Ice

Mountain Bike Ride

The Ginger One, Howard, The Boy.

23rd January route

Another visit to Hamsterley Forest to give The Boy a try of some man-made trails. Unfortunately it was in somewhat worse condition than my lonely ride there earlier in the month.The open tracks all filmed over with ice, the sheltered tracks - Boneshaker, Special K and Brainfreeze were mainly okay, just a little muddy. No Strava times would be shattered today on Transmission or the like. Resting at the Descend huts on the way up to Section 13, The Ginger One showed us his artistic bent with some snow modelling of a priapic nature, perhaps he belongs to a secret Darlington sect which worships the penis, as they do in some far-eastern cultures. Who knows: who cares? His worship of overtime will always take precedence. The new section, possibly called Oddsox appears to be unofficially open, so we gave that the benefit of our experience, declaring it a good roller-coaster ride. Ten out of ten to the trail builders. The whole day was fairly brief, as befits a winter’s ride and we were early enough to make the cafe on the A68, although only for snacks because they’d turned off the grills by two thirty pm. Insert confused face emoticon here. (If I knew how).

Battling Through The Snow

Battling Through The Snow

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Fireman.

20th January ride

Many parts of North Yorkshire are still blanketed in snow, so Pinchinthorpe was chosen as a starting point because of it’s proximity to main roads. We had no trouble driving there, our problems began leaving the car park, the snow was only a couple of inches deep and quite frozen but it was hard work, like pedalling through long grass and we were still on the flat. When the track sloped upward a careful balancing act ensued, keeping enough weight on the back wheel to maintain traction while stopping the front from wandering in the frozen ruts. Taking the easy option after the first slope, we headed for the old railway track through Guisborough, which is at least level until we ascended The Concrete Road to the moor top. Considering the conditions, The Concrete Road was okay, a well compacted wheel rut aided progress. At the top, deeper snow made leaving the car park seem like smooth tarmac, at times even this pair of finely-honed athletes (combined age 110) had to resort to pushing on the uphills. Our reward - some barely controlled downhill sliding, front wheels jerking left and right on the uneven surface. At some point a tacit decision was made to make our way downward, working on the theory conditions would be easier lower down (nearer the cafe being the real reason). The Chute seemed the obvious choice and I can report it is just as much fun in the snow as it is normally. After The Chute we capitulated to cold and conditions and headed directly to The Branch Walkway cafe, deciding what our ride lacked in distance it had made up for in intensity. Consciences salved, we shoveled a suitable amount of replacement calories down our necks while thawing out and dripping muddy slush all over the cafe floor.

Into the Arctic with The Cafe Racers

Road ride

Dom, Adam, Peter, Jamie

17th January ride

In an attempt to wean themselves off their gay city rollers, some of the Cafe Racers bravely ventured outside into the real world. Initially baffled by having hedgerows in their peripheral vision instead of washing machines and microwaves, they soon became accustomed to the concept of ‘outside’. A late start and the lack of a chairman made this ride doubly unusual, although we imagine Chairman Whelan was telepathically sending us strong pedalling vibes from his death bed, as he battles a traumatic and serious case of man-flu.

The first part of the ride passed uneventfully on quiet lanes to Northallerton, then Knayton, crossing the A19 and heading for the main event of the day Boltby Bank (or Sneck Yate Bank to give it its other name.) A few lesser hills were despatched and suddenly it came into view, looking like a grey plumb line dropping through the green conifers, loins were girded, gears clicked down, an ominous sign at the bottom read, “This road is not gritted beyond this point”. Which was the point it began to snow; only lightly, the bank itself had the odd slushy patch which caught out the unwary, or perhaps Dom simply threw himself onto the road for a rest, this would be the sort of thing that happens without the chairman to instil some discipline and backbone into his troops. The normally welcome downhill from the bank top to Hawnby was taken cautiously because of the road condition and lack of vision from wind-driven snow.

Damp and shivering, dripping onto the Hawnby Tea Room floor, we ingested welcome sustenance, some riders taking the polar metaphor too literally and consuming blocks of butter in the style of  Victorian antarctic explorers, we left before they could start eating the huskies. At least the snow had stopped, although whether we could make the twenty or so miles home before dark was another matter. The standard route from Hawnby to Osmotherley, shouldn’t have been a problem and the majority of it was not. Approaching Square Corner, Cafe Racers began going down like skittles hit by an invisible ball - black ice. Square Corner to Osmotherley,  a combination of slide/push/ walk fall stretched the descent from a usual two minutes to early evening. From Osmotherley, the planned route via Cod Beck Reservoir and Scarth Nick was ditched in favour of a (hopefully) less icy pedal along the lanes to the east of the A19. Lights blazing, we made our way through the unlit roads, at last some street lights came into view, civilisation. Six hours from our departure we were back at Dom’s, laughing hysterically from the relief of returning alive and relatively unscathed, the Battle Of Burnt House Bank forever etched in our memories.

Some of these photo’s have been nicked from Adam and Peter.

The Blooper Reel

Sometimes we are not the cycling gods we appear to be, occasionally we slip into human form and have the odd tumble, as this short collection from the past year or so will attest. Conditions (naturally, never poor bike control or bad riding) play a large part, a wet root here, a slippy rock there, a couple of die-hards who have yet to relinquish SPD’s for flats have paid the price. The young ones do seem to make a disproportionate number of appearances, enthusiasm outweighing experience and all that. Whatever the reason for featuring, suffice to say we've all had a good laugh at your expense. The biggest regret is these are only the mistakes captured on video, just the tip of the tumbling iceberg, the other ninety percent exists solely in the memories of those who were present. The slow motion over the bars moments and the inexplicable “not even moving” trips, those tangled in the bike frame contortions and the classic “Pensioner stuck in a cattle grid” where I was warned with a startling degree of fluid profanity against using a camera by a sexagenerian laid flat on his back with one arm and one leg stuck through the bars of a cattle grid.

As the saying goes, “It’s all part of the fun.”

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8th January 2015

Mountain Bike Ride

8th January 2015 route

The Bread Lad. The Cruncher.

A fresh day, with a fresh crew and a fresh wind for 2015's second ride, the shelter of Guisborough Woods’ many conifers beckoning. It was a very amenable day for early January, bright and sunny, the wind merely a fraction of yesterday's hoolie. We rode a few old favourite tracks, trying to stay away from the muddier routes without degenerating into a total fire road ride. Plenty of fun was had by all on the tracks we used and the between the trees stuff lasts a bit longer.

First Ride Of The Year

Mountain Bike Ride

The Ginger One. Oz.

7th January route

First Ride of the Year.

The new year is almost a week old and some of us are only having our first ride; we couldn't have picked a windier day, a vicious depression the weathermen were calling it. Riding into the wind definitely induced a vicious depression. The route an old standard, Kildale, Clay Bank and back over Urra Moor to Kildale. Unfortunately the first 11 miles were predominantly uphill and against the wind, a situation my companions were not shy of mentioning. The top of the Carr Ridge steps was the windiest spot, when we  attempted to remount our bikes, nature had other ideas, knocking us sideways at every opportunity, even when we were riding it was in the style of The Pensioner, zigzagging along the single track over Urra Moor.

Gradually we reached the longed for moment when the wind was at our rear, spirits improved and insults declined considerably. Following the Cleveland Way to the Baysdale road was a sublime experience, payback for the suffering of the outward journey, for a few brief miles we were the cycling gods of our imagination, gliding effortlessly down the double track, pumping the drainage humps for extra speed, even enjoying the odd bit of phat air between tyre and ground as we launched ourselves upward. It might only be a centimetre but air is air.

Too soon the tarmac of the Baysdale road was reached, a slight incline taking us up to the cattle grid before the road plummets downward, rogue side gusts of wind giving sphincter twitching moments as bikes wobbled at 35 mph.

Undaunted and luckily unharmed we reach the cosy warmth of Glebe Cottage for the highlight of the ride. Food and drink.

The Last Ride of 2014. New Year's Eve.

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Pensioner

New Year's Eve route

A poor turnout for the ultimate excursion of 2014, just me and The Pensioner to be exact, gearing up in a rapidly filling Lordstones car park. Don’t you just hate it when all the day people are off at the same time? To make matters worse last orders in the cafe was at 2pm, owing to a private function, something probably involving footballers wives and pristine Range Rovers,  The Pensioner opined contemptuously, which meant our ride would have to be either fast or short, I’ll leave you to guess which it was.

A cold day with the odd icy patch until we turned off road onto the track up the side of Carlton Bank, partially thawed snow had refrozen, rendering the whole track smooth as glass and slippier than car salesman on commission. Strike one to the winter, we pushed to the top where it wasn't too different, except for a narrow strip to the edges of the track which was rideable with care for the able bodied and fully sighted. The Pensioner, whose inability to keep his front wheel in a straight line at the best of times is well known, found it all somewhat ‘challenging to say the least’ but as the saying goes he is still lapping the bloke on the couch.  On top of the moor, after Barker’s Ridge, the full force of the wind hit us, the bitterly cold wind, a quick rethink of the route soon saw escape routes being utilised and after a quick banana stop at Cock Howe (yes we still snigger, although not as much as at Bell End) we made our way down Trennet Bank in a slithery, sliding fashion which owed as much to winter sport as it did to cycling.

From the road at Chop Gate, we stuck to tarmac all the way back to Lordstones, employing some caution on the steeper bits of road which seemed to have escaped the attention of the gritting lorries. Soon we were in the warmth of the packed cafe, two men, on the verge of middle-age, splattered with mud, in wet Lycra tights and stinking sweaty tops, amongst the holiday strollers and ladies who lunch. Did we get some funny looks? Oh yes.