Mountain Bike Ride
The Pensioner, The Ginger One, Oz, The Trainee, The Lumberjack.
It might have been tempting fate, or maybe even taunting fate, to go for a bike ride today, the exact date last year I had a stroke following a bike ride. Being most unsuperstitious, I went anyway and as could be expected, remained stroke free another day, unfortunately what we did not remain was dry. The day began quite pleasantly, half a dozen of us exiting a practically empty Clay Bank car park, a few brief pedal strokes before The Trainee was introduced to the delights of the Carr Ridge steps, a push/carry/ride up to Urra Moor, where we could remount and take advantage of the dry conditions to ride The Rim, a pleasant singletrack leading to the top of Medd Crag. From Medd Crag we made our way up to Round Hill, much to The Pensioner’s disgust, who regarded the detour to take in The Rim, and indirect routes in general, as some sort of faux pas and more evidence of life’s great plot against him. Luckily we were too far ahead to hear his geriatric grumbling.
Regrouping at Round Hill, we pointed out the highest point on the North York Moors to The Trainee who was suitably underwhelmed, it being nothing more than a slight rise in a sea of heather, only the trig point distinguishing it for other slight rises in the heather. Easier riding on dry sandy tracks took us over to Tripsdale and the exciting zig zag descent, today somehow looser than usual, rocks clattering and pinging off tyres as we hurtled downhill as fast as our middle aged sensibilities would allow us. Resting at the corner, we emptied bladders and refuelled ready the inevitable antithesis of the Tripsdale descent, the ascent, starting very steep and loose before reverting to merely steep and loose, as we were failing in our attempts at a dab-free ascent, one of the weatherman’s showers decided we were enjoying ourselves a little too much and decided to dampen our enthusiasm. Thankfully it was brief and blew over by the time we were making our way along the moor edge above Bilsdale, returning to Medd Crag, anticipating the descent, always a favourite.
Today it did not disappoint, varying between all out speed sections and thought provoking technical segments, some parts a little slippery owing to the recent shower but everyone made it to the bottom largely unscathed. Even The Pensioner looked almost pleased, although it could have just been wind. At the road by Bilsdale Hall, we were visited by another shower, we took advantage of some large trees to shelter under, the rain trumped us by falling harder, we moved further under the trees, the rain called in reinforcements and began to dump down like someone emptying buckets. The road became a waterfall, water gushing from the gutters and across the tarmac, and kept on gushing, the trees offering scant protection from the bloated raindrops falling like a fat kids tears when the ice cream van drove off before he could get there. We waited for it to stop, we compromised and waited for it ease off a bit, still it plummeted down, cold and wet by now, a group decision was made to jettison the ride and we returned to the car park, unusually thankful we had an ascent of Clay Bank to keep us warm.
The car park was buried in the clouds when we reached it, although the rain had thankfully reduced to a moist drizzle. Coming up the bank, The Trainee’s legs finally capitulated from the unaccustomed pedalling and he became the lantern rouge, as The Pensioner, forty years his senior, disappeared into the mist, something which greatly pleased The Pensioner but not as much as the mandatory after-ride tea stop, a visit to the garden centre cafe we know as Zombieland, where he is an elderly Adonis in lycra, a striding king-like amongst his shuffling, beige populace, quaffing thrice-watered tea to make sure he gets his money’s worth.
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