The End Of An Era.
Mountain Bike Ride.
The Pensioner, The Bread Lad, Oz, Richie.
Arriving at Kildale station five minutes before the usual meeting time of half ten, it was a surprise to find I was the lanterne rouge, even the normally tardy Bread Lad was present. He must have slept in his car all night to be there so early. Our departure time was no earlier than usual, as certain members caught up on their cycle lubrication and maintenance regime in the car park - good job the ever-impatient Ginger One had decided spectating some trivial sport was more important than a bike ride.
Perhaps nobody was keen to get going because they knew the route started up the Baysdale Abbey Road, a hill of some steepness and length, known to our roadie brethren as The Road To Nowhere, which might amuse the residents of Baysdale Abbey. Plodding upwards, we took things easy, chatting when we could draw enough breath, trying to ignore the moaning from the back. Reaching the top cattle grid, we regrouped and waited for The Pensioner before heading down the bridleway into Baysdale. Somehow I’d never managed to ride this bridleway in seventeen years of mountain biking despite passing it probably dozens of times. An uninspiring start, following a barely discernible ribbon of singletrack through heather, soon opened up into a fine descent, not technical but with enough features to keep us on our toes, or head, shoulders, knees and toes in Oz’s case when his little utilised MTB skills deserted him. Unfortunately all that fun has to paid for and we were soon pulling our savings from the gravity bank, as we ascended to Holiday Hill on Baysdale Moor, following a pensioner-friendly, wide and hazard free track all the way to Armouth Wath, former coal mine and arguably the most remote part of these moors.
Continuing with the upwards theme, we carried on up to meet the Cleveland Way at Burton Howe, turning right and following it northward to Tidy Brown Hill and the double track which leads back to the Baysdale Road. One of my favourite tracks on the moors, fast but non-technical apart from the drainage humps which appear at regular intervals. Rejoining the road, a consensus decision was made to try “the other” bridleway which leads from this road. Perhaps we thought it would be as good as the first bridleway of the day as it heads in the same direction, it is by no means unpleasant but short, grassy and pretty uninspiring. A short road climb took us back to the top and this time we took ourselves straight down the tarmac, passing Park Nab at unwise velocities considering the amount of sheep wandering about, most of them with less road sense than a flock of pensioners escaping from a care home. Speaking of pensioners, our favourite geriatric pulled his usual stunt, trailing at the rear all day then suddenly having more energy than a box of monkeys with ADHD, whipping past everyone and leaving us eating his dust as soon the cafe was in smelling distance.
The cafe being our main event today, an auspicious occasion, truly the end of an era, our last Glebe Cottage ride, the ultimate door stop sandwich, the doors are closing on Sunday as our hosts, quite correctly, feel they ought to be spending more time with their young family. Sixteen years of winter soup, summer sandwiches, spicy tea loaf and cheese and chorizo toasties, not to mention the famous scones, never a bad meal in all those years. It was always a pleasure to visit Glebe Cottage and we wish Col and Heather all the best for the future.
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