Mountain Bike Ride
The Ginger One, The Bread Lad, The Cruncher, Oz, Tony The Copper, Howard, Steve.
Dom and Simon
The Captain
In the season of traditions our traditional christmas dinner ride survives as the most popular and well attended ride of the whole year, when regulars and irregulars gather to gain an appetite by sliding about in some mud for a few hours until it dinner time. This year was no exception, The Kings Head at Newton Under Roseberry, in the shadow of Teesside’s most iconic North Yorkshire landmark - Roseberry Topping, was chosen as the recipient of our mud-spattered carcasses. Half ten on a dull but unseasonably warm Tuesday morning, numerous gentlemen, many on the verge of middle-age, were dragging mountain bikes from vehicles and renewing past acquaintances as the inevitable pre-ride faffing took place.
Eventually an octet of mountain bike riders and a brace of road dabblers left the car park and went their separate ways, the roadies keen for dinner but reluctant to commit their delicate bodies to more manly pursuits, think Nureyev and Nijinsky in a car park with Wigan Warriors rugby league team and you will be getting close. We weren’t getting close as they sped off down the road, their androgenous, lycra-sheathed, buttocks disappearing toward Great Ayton. The mud-pluggers continued at a more reasonable pace, pedalling and chatting, until we entered the woods and had our first taste of the brown slippy stuff, when breathing became more of a priority.
A team of eight is a slow business at gates and other N.S.P’s (Natural Stopping Points) as conversations are continued, bikes are compared, old rides are discussed and new rides planned. The actual route is largely irrelevant on this day, the majority of the tracks were not new to any of us; inevitably we split into an A team and a B team, with those cheats, who actually train taking the lead as those of us whose approach is more lax brought up the rear. Initially we thought we might stick to the better-surfaced tracks because of the conditions but the temptation of out of control descents, slippy roots, greasy rocks and lashings of mud became too much and we found ourselves passing the early afternoon away failing and falling on a selection of North Yorkshire’s finest trails. Occasional riders who do not attend on a week to week basis, were surprised to find us regulars as lacking in technique and courage as we ever were.
A last minute dash and we arrived back in the car park with five minutes to spare, cue a selection of muddy men attempting to preserve some semblance of modesty and avoid being arrested for indecent exposure, shedding sodden kit, as they rushed for sustenance. We were joined for the meal by erstwhile Terra Trailblazer - The Captain, who still threatens to rejoin us at some indeterminate point in the future, and the two road riders, returned from their cafe tour of North Yorkshire.
The meal was most tasty, the pleasant staff were friendly and efficient, conversation flowed despite (or maybe because of) the lack of alcohol and it was well dark by the time we left the pub, hopefully all looking forward to next year’s ride.
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