3 Stanes Day Two - Mabie

3 Stanes Day Two - Mabie

Mountain Bike Ride

The Ginger One, Rod, Tony.

22nd April Mabie red route

Day two of our mini break began with a visit to the bike shop in Dalbeattie for essential repairs to my Specialized which managed to snap a gear cable towards the end of yesterday’s ride. Kudos to the mechanic in MPG Cycles who fixed it while we went for a full Scottish breakfast. Pretty similar to a full English, with the addition of potato scones and haggis fritters, just the thing to mop up the Belhaven Best from last night, which was serving as a very good purgative this morning. Breakfast over, Tony decided he could not live one moment longer without a kilt towel, which he proudly modelled around town.

Today’s venue was Mabie Forest, apparently only a 15 minute drive from Dalbeattie but so badly signposted we began to suspect the locals were trying to hide the place from us outsiders. Owing to the wonders of modern satellite technology, or perhaps hindered by it, we eventually found the parking area. If anything the weather here was even better than yesterday, the first sun cream of the year was applied by those of a fairer complexion. Another cafe-less car park, despite the trail guide advertising one, the bike shop too, looked less than active as we passed it’s shuttered door. Mabie is less rocky than Dalbeattie with more flowing singletrack and less black excursions for us to session/play/injure* (delete as applicable) ourselves on. Climbs were amenable again, apart from a short, steep, rocky section which, much to our disgust, was included twice in red route. Some long downhills were our reward for the ascents, not too technical in any parts but featuring huge berms, some of which were so good we did them twice. In a similar fashion to yesterday, the trails were practically deserted, as though we had our own private trail centre. The Mabie red route is somewhat shorter than Dalbeattie’s, so we finished the day on the skills loop and mini x section which turned out to be great fun, especially the mini x which featured berms, tabletops and doubles, all in a fast flowing track which was so enjoyable we used the accompanying push up track to run down again. An alternative finish for the mini x is a lengthy, thin, and at times, high section of North Shore which, as they say of rock climbing problems, attracted many failures.

Quitting whilst still uninjured, we left the forest and drove to a nearby by petting farm cafe to replenish our calories and stroke some small animals. The idea of a preprandial aperitif was mooted, the plan being to approach Dalbeattie from the south on the A710 and stop in the small village of Kippford, which is a mile or two from our wigwams. The drive is picturesque to say the least, with awesome views over the Solway Firth backed by the fells of Cumbria. Kippford turned out to be a one street, seafront village, home of the Solway Yacht Club, two pubs and little else as far as we could see, although we never actually got past the second pub, so there may have been more.

Our happy band returned to the wigwams for a couple of cold ones before we once again hit the fleshpots of Dalbeattie for an evening of Italian food and Scottish beer. The Ginger One attempted to dazzle us with his cue skills but his efforts were received with the contempt they deserved. We phoned our friendly taxi driver for our last ride to Gorsebank Farm, she kept us up to date with the local gossip as we drove. Back at the wigwams, the sky was replete with stars, at least double the amount in an English sky, millions of suns, all hurtling away from us at a massive speed, the expanding universe an explosion of gas balls. Cue profound comment about our humble position in the cosmic scheme of things or bathetic observation regarding gas balls in sleeping bags. Take your pick.