The Rosedale Round - on a cross bike.

Cyclocross Ride

The Chairman

24th July route

In an attempt to satiate his perverted desire for muddy tyres and baggy shorts, The Cafe Racers’ renown Chairman has bought himself a cross bike, jumping on the CX bandwagon, giving in to his urges for a good, rough ride. The famous Rosedale Round his preference for saying goodbye to cross bike virginity; for me, it’s a simple pleasure to be in Rosedale Abbey without the thought that an ascent of The Chimney or Heygate Bank beckons and having done the loop many times on a mountain bike, I was interested to see how it would be on cyclocross bike. The Chairman still turned up looking like Chris Froome’s scrawnier sibling; beer, pies and baggy shorts ought to be in his training regime before he slips down the gaps in a cattle grid and becomes trapped like a frog in a drain.

The first section is on tarmac and passes the The Pensioner’s favourite farm, Bell End, scene of many a Finbarr Saunders’ style giggling session from the back on our mountain bike outings. On the cross bikes this section did pass much quicker than usual, soon letting the Chairman’s Planet X have its first taste of gravel, steeply up through the farm yard and on to the old rail track where things are more of a cindery/grassy nature with the odd wheel trapping rabbit hole or bit of subsidence to catch the unwary. Despite the grassy surface we felt we were flying along compared to usual mtb pedalling, past the kilns and over two gorges, before the rail bed turns to singletrack round the head of the valley, narrow bars and skinny tyres requiring precision steering on the narrow track. Heading along the other side of the valley, we rejoined the cinder covered rail bed, rising gradually at first before levelling out and giving us a speedy pedal toward Bank Top, pausing only for a photo opportunity near the old Sheriff Pit air shaft.

Carrying on the same vein, we crossed over the road at the top of Chimney Bank and made our way to Ana Cross, where the cameras came out again as we recorded the moment for posterity. The track down to Lastingham is normally a balls out blast, rocky and loose, letting the suspension soak up the bumps; on the less forgiving cyclocross machines things were somewhat more cautious, employment of nature’s original shock absorbers, elbows and knees, helped a little but a full body version of the claims lawyers’ favourite, vibration white finger, was beginning to make itself evident by the time we reached the smooth tarmac at Lastingham. The Chairman began to complain about pins and needles in his extremities - lets see the no win, no fee guys pick the bones out of that.

Leaving Lastingham and it’s famous crypt behind,  we returned to the fun stuff at High Askew Farm, riding the unusually dry singletrack above the River Seven, along the valley back to Rosedale Abbey. A couple of dismounts were required as we deferred to some large rocks but otherwise it was all rideable, even the now legendary section which broke my collarbone in 2012. It’s still hard to understand how I came off. Soon the lower slopes of Chimney Bank were reached, fortunately our direction involved nothing as gruesome as riding upward, although I’m sure The Chairman’s masochistic tendencies were tempting him to have a quick spin skyward; my gourmand tendencies kept my handlebars firmly pointed in the direction of Graze On The Green.

To answer the burning question, how was the Rosedale Round on a cyclocross bike? Not that much different, it being a fairly smooth route overall and only marginally faster, only 10 minutes quicker than when we rode it earlier this month.

A Ride From Birk Brow

Mountain Bike Ride

Oz, Rod, The Trainee

16th July Route

How can I bang out five hundred or so words about a bike ride where nothing went wrong, nobody fell off, the trails were perfect and the sun shone all day? Even the wind was mild. We had no pensioner with us, so random moanings and general cantankerousness were absent; just as well because we had a mid-ride cafe stop, something which is now off the Terra Trailblazers agenda for rides featuring over Sixties.

Might as well just describe the route, which as per the title, began from the car park at the top of Birk Brow, or if you are unfortunate enough to be from Darlington like The Ginger One - Guisborough Bank. An initial mile along the busy A171 moor road had our Garmins’ recording an average speed of 20 mph, obviously it was pretty much all downhill. Thankfully, we left the Whitby bound traffic behind and made our way along Swindale Lane to Moorsholm, where we turned south, crossing the moor road and heading for Dimmingdale Farm and the bridleway across the moor to Three Howes Rigg. Three Howes Rigg is better known as the bus stop with the Karl Striker painting - Teesside’s answer to Banksy. It’s also one end of Robin Hood’s Butts, which are three tumuli on Danby Low Moor, as opposed to another Robin Hood’s Butts, at Stoupe Brow near Robin Hood’s Bay, where the medieval Ronnie Kray and his gang practiced their archery, our Robin Hood’s Butts is a rough track, occasionally used by the wobbly head fraternity in their “One Life Live It” (sic) four by fours. Never fails to remind me of the old Fast Show, “Lets off road” sketches.

A little bit of tarmac from the end of Robin Hood’s Butts, then we took The Pannierman’s Causeway to Clitherbecks Farm, the causeway is another medieval “trod”, pathways which were once common all over the moors, paved for the pack horses which carried goods between the towns and villages, parts of the original flags still exist on this causeway, cutting through normally boggy ground, making progress on two wheels somewhat easier. Today, the track was drier than I’ve ever seen it and we made it to the farm in record time. The bridleway past Castleton Pits was also bone dry, the little streams and rivulets all evaporated, we left the bridleway behind and headed downhill on the steep and loose track down Oakley Side, the odd briar making a grab for exposed limbs as we bounced and skidded to the road.

A mile or two on tarmac followed, crossing, here’s that word again, the medieval, Duck Bridge as we made our way through Ainthorpe and into Danby for the calorific delights of The Stonehouse Bakery. 

We exited the bakery bulging with bread, pastry and cake, regretting going against The Pensioner’s dictum forbidding mid-ride cafe stops, especially as everyone except The Trainee was well aware of the climb awaiting us after Danby Park. The dry and mud-free Danby Park, The Trainee probably thinks all rides are like this - he is in for such a shock when winter rolls around. Then we were on it, the steep climb back to Three Howes Rigg, the bus stop from our outward journey now a beacon of horizontal in a vertical world, gradually the road levelled out, the bus shelter was passed and it was time to introduce The Trainee to another medieval trod - the Quaker’s Causeway, this one allegedly built by monks, perhaps to enable the pious to reach the abbey at Guisborough more easily. The paving, it must be said is a little uneven, enough to have modern day claims lawyers salivating with money-lust were it a local high street. Full suspension engaged, maximum bounciness to assuage our comfy-chair softened process operator buttocks and we were away, the causeway cuts through the heather for a mile or so, rattling and bouncing, rewarding a bold approach, keep the momentum going and look ahead so you don’t fall off the sides.

After the causeway a lovely bit of smooth, dry singletrack remains and then Birk Brow car park appears, the butty van still open. Well, it would be rude not to partake.

The Rosedale Round Revisited

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Pensioner, The Trainee, Dave.

10th July route.

It is hard to believe the small village of Rosedale Abbey once housed three thousand people with a similar number travelling in every day to work in the ironstone industry; mainly itinerant miners travelling to hew the ore-bearing rock from the ground and send it to the steelworks of Teesside. Contemporary accounts paint a picture of a town not unlike something from the wild west, drunken miners brawling in the streets, their wages spent in the local hostelries. Things are a lot more civilised these days, except for a potty-mouthed pensioner, dressed in Lycra, complaining bitterly about anything and everything from potholes in the road to The Trainee having a newer bike than him. And The Trainee did have a newer bike, out on it’s maiden voyage, ready for its first encounter with the great outdoors.

We were joined by Dave, just given the all clear after further surgery to his shattered elbow, to do the Rosedale Round, or as it’s more commonly known nowadays “the one where John broke his collarbone.” An uphill road start, passing that well known source of pensioner amusement, Bell End Farm, soon we were on the old rail track on Rosedale East Side, heading for the head of the valley, some relics of the mining industry still standing, one relic of the chemical industry still pedalling. The riding may be fairly flat but the views are magnificent, rust-coloured streams falling down gorge sides, the incipient River Seven coming from Rosedale Head, cutting through a green mass of heather and bilberry. Rounding the valley head we rode south on a cinder track, a headwind marring our progress, the track levelling toward Bank Top, speed increasing as the riding became easier. Suddenly The Pensioner staged a Marcel Kittell style breakaway, powering past the rest of us, ancient legs pounding a phenomenally high gear, as we looked on in amazement - we were nowhere near a cafe, his usual spot for sudden bursts of speed. We let him think he was in front for a mile or two, then reeled him in as he ran out of steam.

Crossing the top of Chimney Bank, we continued to Ana Cross and had a snack break, taking in the big sky view and getting a bit of a history lesson from a couple of Irish walkers. The downhill to Lastingham was superb, dry and fast, The Trainee’s new Cannondale getting a good workout on the humps and bumps. A little road work took us to High Askew farm, where we gained a tail wind as we turned North for the journey back along the valley to Rosedale Abbey, on an undulating and varied track, ranging from wide singletrack to rocky, technical sections, muddy puddles and even the odd boggy splodge. Some dabs may have been employed. The slight gully “where John broke his collarbone”, was ridden without recourse to a sling and six weeks on the settee, every time I ride this bit I can never find how or why I was ejected from my bike, the track is almost smooth.

Soon after we were passing the White Horse Farm Inn, with only a brief bit of road to lead us back into Rosedale Abbey and a well deserved visit to Graze On The Green to replenish the calories expended riding eighteen and a half miles at an unprecedented 9.1 mph. The Trainee’s new bike now splattered with mud and sheep shit, looking more like a mountain bike should. We sat outside in the sunshine, relaxed after a good day out, tea and coffee our beverages of choice, no drunken brawling in the streets for us.

Two Days At Gisburn Forest

Mountain Biking

Richie, Rod, Mike,

Day One route

Day Two route

The hottest day for nine years, allegedly, and the planet is being raped by my air con, as I’m driving behind some ponderous traffic heading for the Yorkshire/Lancashire border and our accommodation for the next few days, Dalehouse Barn. The wonders of modern satellite technology delivered me directly to the door, where Rod, Richie and Mike were patiently waiting for the latecomer; for lover’s of remote hideaways, this converted barn is ideal, the owners live in the adjoining farm house, all other neighbours are bovine, ovine or entomological. After a perfunctory lunch and a slathering of sunscreen, we were able to saddle up and begin our ride, some local knowledge gleaned from our host gave us a shortcut into Gisburn Forest, good news, and that Gisburn’s star attraction, Hully Gully, was closed and had been for the past month, bad news.

Taking it on the chin, we rode a mile or so down the road and entered the forest via a small car park, then, finding the tree by the hole in the wall, we rode a short but surprisingly muddy track which joined the red route at a section called Home Baked. Once again we are following trail centre arrows, this time on a stony track through dark woods, before long the first technical feature appeared, a short, rocky, staircase which proved to be easier than it looked from above, shortly after we popped out onto our first bit of fire road. Mercifully this did not go on too long and we gladly returned to the cover of the trees for a bit of respite from the blazing sun (I never imagined I’d write that sentence either). The only major climb of the route appeared shortly after, a bit of a drag on fire road, which led to the top of the orange graded section, Hope Line, we decided to save this bit for tomorrow. A short climb through a disused quarry, led to some singletrack then a long section of raised North Shore on Sheep Hill, which features some cruel humps which require a fair amount of momentum to negotiate, good job the stability-challenged pensioner stayed at home.

Moving out onto open moorland we found ourselves in a land of rocky drops, Whelpstone Crag, culminating with the black graded Bigfoot Slab, a steep boulder causeway beside a rock outcrop, which was done but not without some initial hesitation and much discussion. Rolling over the lip it appeared to be a vertical drop, hanging on to the handlebars, buttocks hovering over the rear wheel, it was confirmed, luckily the run out is perfectly designed to sweep riders back onto the red route. Soon after we found ourselves at the allegedly closed Hully Gully, no Closed Signs or any other indications of work in progress, two passing Forestry Commision lads pulled up in a van and confirmed the route was open, as they had opened it an hour previously, we were to be the inaugural riders on the new improved Hully Gully. But first the qualifier, a rock step which requires some jumping skill to begin the route, none of us were willing to walk this bit under the watchful eyes of the FC lads, so jump it we did, with varying degrees of style but no casualties. Hully Gully itself is a fantastic ride, huge sweeping berms, up and down the valley sides, lead with maximum enjoyment to the valley bottom.

Unfortunately valley bottoms can only mean one thing, a climb out and this was no different, although none of the climbing at Gisburn is particularly arduous, no long steep climbs really, more a succession of ups and downs, the heat was beginning to take its toll and after we had done about ten miles in total, a snack break was called at a shaded corner. Four men on the verge of middle-age, bright red, sweating like whipped racehorses, casually eating snack bars as though they were at a pavement cafe in a European holiday resort. Some more singletrack followed before we found ourselves at the Gisburn Forest Hub, which is essentially a toilet block in a car park, with a closed cafe a short distance away. Underwhelmed, we continued onward, following more woodland singletrack for a mile or so until we reached our start point. Another mile on the road and we were back at our barn.

A predictable evening of food, beer and flatulence followed, as could be expected from four men without the civilising effect of female company; bikes in the front room, sweaty clothes on the floor, uninterrupted bike related conversation. Sleeping arrangements were basic, two mezzanine floors and a pile of mattresses, personally  I had a fine night’s sleep, maybe something to do with almost forty years of shift work.

The next day was dry but cooler. After breakfast we made our way back to Gisburn Forest and rode the red route again, taking longer this time, doing a bit of sessioning on the more exciting sections (sessioning - getting down with the kids there, translation: doing some bits twice) including Hully Gully and Bigfoot Slab. We rode the orange graded Hope Line and found Leap Of Faith which remained unsullied by our tyres, two metre gaps being a little outside our ability zone. Today, without the blazing heat, everything seemed so much easier and we enjoyed the route significantly more than yesterday. We ventured onto the Skills Loop, which we all agreed was the most disappointing part of the whole Gisburn experience, being a collection of uninspiring trail features  which would be better utilised as part of a route. Returning to Home Baked again, we left the woods and made our way back to the barn.

For me that was the break over, only a two hour drive home and work in the morning to look forward to. Gisburn Forest is remote, I’m still not certain if it is in Lancashire or Yorkshire. Dalehouse Barn is also remote, transport is required if you want to eat out or visit a local (although they are not that local) pub, similarly, shops are few and far between, no nipping out for a paper or a bottle of milk. That aside, Dalehouse Barn is ideally situated for riding in Gisburn Forest and I am certain we will visit again in the near future.