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.