Drizzle

Mountain Bike Ride

The Ginger One

12th January route

While these clouds and this somber drizzling weather shut all in, we two draw nearer and know one another.

Henry David Thoreau

Just as well we do know each other because there were only the two of us on this freezing Tuesday morning, a mere duo of Terra Trailblazers hardcore massif, everyone else at work or cabined up waiting for better weather. Even yours truly has been a bit lax this month, twelve days in and only on the third ride. Today’s forecast was rain at 1pm, today’s plan was for a brief ride and back in the cafe for 1pm. Obviously North Yorkshire’s cloud and wind are no respecters of the BBC and they failed to stick to the plan.

A cold start, wet underfoot with some low cloud grazing the higher moor tops, we were pushed up the old Carlton Bank Gliding Club track by a tail wind, which, to be honest, only made things marginally easier. The wisdom of beginning a route with a 200 foot climb, when the Xmas excess is still bulging through the Lycra like someone trying to smuggle jelly, has got to be questionable but like The Unsuitables at Guisborough, it is a relatively speedy way of gaining height. Soon the bridleway parts company with the wide track and heads across the moor on some pleasant singletrack, before rejoining a wider track and heading down past Brian’s Pond on Carlton Moor, puddles becoming deeper and more voluminous as we rode further south.  Before long we were climbing again, up Barker’s Ridge, then heading towards another of The Pensioner’s, snigger, snigger landmarks - Cock Howe, actually one of North Yorkshires circa Bronze Age barrows.

The bridleway from Cock Howe to Head House was in surprisingly good condition considering we have had approximately twenty times more rain than this time last January, wet of course but not too arduous. From Head House the clouds came down to meet us, enveloping us in their wet cotton wool embrace as we turned into the wind, cold drizzle being forced down into any gaps. Returning to Cock Howe, we moved away from the wind and down the track, boggy at first but resolving to some reasonable riding in narrow ruts with the odd few rocks thrown in. The steep section down to Chop Gate proved to be somewhat slippier than usual; The Ginger One, who appears to have sold his soul to Beelzebub, rode it like Danny Hart, my attempt owed more to Miranda Hart, skidding out several times on the wet grass, few little lie downs before the bottom was gained.

From Chop Gate the original plan to head up past Beak Hills was shelved by mutual agreement in favour of a straightforward slog up The Raisdale Road back to Lordstones for dry clothes and a welcoming cafe. Entering the car park at the same time the rain was due to begin was ironic, seeing as we had been rained on for the past hour or so.