Mountain Bike Ride.
The Pensioner, The Trainee, Dave.
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.
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