Winter's Last Icy Blast - take #2...

Mountain Bike Ride.

Rod and (briefly) The Ginger One

26th April Route.

In some kind of cosmic prank, winter revisited us today, a smattering of snow which caused rush hour traffic chaos across Teesside, tripling commuting times for those (day) people caught in the melee. Serves them right for all starting at the same time. We met in Pinchinthorpe car park unpacking bikes in a light sleet, a complete contrast to five days ago in this same car park when it was like a June day and we rode in short sleeve shirts. Today we were triple layered, topped with waterproofs and winter gloves have been exhumed from drawers and wardrobes, where they had been optimistically stored for summer.

Leaving the visitor centre and it’s inviting cafe behind we climbed steadily on snow-covered fire roads until, after we had covered just over a mile, The Ginger One’s freehub decided it had done enough work for one day and withdrew its labour. No amount of cajoling could persuade it to get back on the job; game over for The Ginger One - devastated because he had paid a pound for a parking ticket, he freewheeled back to the car park. Rod and I continued, the blizzard we had watched approaching while dealing with The Ginger One’s freehub, caught us up and kept us company all the way to Newton Moor. Stopping for a photo opportunity and a breather, backs to the wind belting in from the North, straight from the Arctic Circle by the feel of it.

Moving onward, figuring things might be better in the trees, we set off on The Secret Path, obviously a flawed theory, roots were wet, snow-covered and slippier than a proctologist’s finger. The rest was merely muddy and slippy. Back on fire roads another climb took us to a snowy Highcliffe, ready to sample the new improved Lover’s Ledge track, opened up now the whole hillside has been denuded by felling. Last week this would have been a great ride, today it was transformed into a wet and slippery mud chute, it’ll be better when things return to the dry side.

The only way from here is up and taking into account the prevailing wind, we climbed up from Hutton village, then were blown up The Unsuitables as the sky changed from grey to blue. Straight through the gate, we continued up Percy Cross Rigg before dropping down on the B.O.A.T. through Lonsdale Plantation, the bottom of the track a series of raised ledges above meter deep grooves filled with water, make riding down a balancing act, trying not to brake on the slimy surface. Slipping and sliding our way downwards, we made it unscathed to tarmac, which delivered us, in a more amenable fashion, to Gribdale. The climb back to Newton Moor was like everything else today, snow-covered mud, not rideable even to cyclists of our skill and expertise.

We chose to finish our ride down the three sections of the downhill track known as Les’s, curiously enough they were the best rides of the day, wet but running quite well, giving an enjoyable finish to a cold, wet day which had evidently cowed other cyclists and the majority of walkers into the warm embrace of central heating.

A Quartet Of Routes.

Mountain Bike Rides.

13th April 2016 route

After yesterday’s (unblogged) local ride where I was giving a thorough drenching, today I came prepared with waterproof everything. Needless to say, the rain stayed away but the as the ground was saturated it was not exactly a dry ride. Another lone ride.

19th April 2016 route

A trip to Hamsterley in the sunshine with The Ginger One, dragged ourselves all the way up to Doctor’s Gate just for the ride back down Rocky Road, followed by Beehives, Oddsox, Transmission, Accelerator and Nitrous. Switching to the other side of the valley, we did the big climb up to Section 13, then the usual way down, Boneshaker, Special K, Brainfreeze and a quick spin around the Skills Loop before retiring to the cafe.

20th April 2016 route

Managed to get The Pensioner out for a gentle ride around the moors above Great Ayton prior to a visiting Fletcher’s Farm so he could complain he had not rode hard enough to justify the calories in his toasted teacake.

21st April 2016 route

Third good weather day in a row, if anything hotter than the previous two, had a mooch about Guisborough Woods with The Bread Lad and his colleague, Richie. Checked out some of the new tracks in the trees, unfortunately still a bit sloppy but promising a nice ride when it dries up. Old favourite The Chute was in superb condition, except for the last few feet which is covered in harvesting debris. The monstrous climb took us back to Highcliffe Nab, from where we rode to Codhill Heights and gave The Nipple some attention, again in lovely condition. Returning to Guisborough Woods via Percy Cross Rigg, The Bread Lad suggested a team descent of Little Roseberry, which none of us had done for a while, nice and dry, we followed it with Les’s 3, a fine end to a fine day.

Sheepwash Shenanigans

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Fireman. The Ginger One.

11th April route

It's a good job I don't suffer from ochlophobia because today a whole brace of riders turned out for a pedal around North Yorkshire, meeting at Sheepwash car park, significantly easier to park since the schools went back. The weather played ball as well, a little windy but pleasantly sunny, the promise of dry tracks hung tacit in the air, nobody wanting to jinx things by saying it out loud.

Our route was essentially three loops circling the car park, the first involved climbing up to the collection of antenna on Scarth Wood Moor and riding back down again, on a track far too nice to waste on walkers. Returning to Cod Beck reservoir, we ascended through woods to the Drove Road which we followed back down to the ford at Sheepwash. The last section is a drop down on broken slabs, the ground beneath the rocks is becoming more eroded, making the drop offs bigger than ever. The Fireman appeared to have forgotten his spectacles because he ploughed down as though the drop offs didn't exist, The Ginger One and me took a more circumspect approach.

Continuing to Clain Woods, the infamous steps were despatched with the efficiency afforded by 29 inch wheels and skill compensating suspension. The wooded track which comes after the steps has had the eternally muddy section at it's end dealt with, a pleasant surprise. Through the water splash, then we began climbing again, crossing the Scugdale road at Heathwaite, before some speedy single track, followed by a soggy field took us to Faceby. A couple more fields and we were on the road to the former village of Whorlton, a lost village originally thought to have been wiped out by plague, although some subscribe to a theory of economic migration (to Swainby) when the Drove Road became more established (reference). Heading for Swainby, we passed the castle, reputedly one of the most haunted places in Britain, for those that believe in that sort of thing. The spirit of imminent sustenance entered us and we made haste to Swainby store for sandwiches and local gossip.

Fed and watered, the third loop commenced with a climb out of Swainby, the all important steps or road? discussion took place, should we haul bikes and bodies back up the Clain Wood steps or continue up the road to Scarth Nick. The Ginger One, who will always prefer a slow walk to a hard ride, put a strong case for the steps; the usual attempt to see how far up we could actually pedal ensued but we were defeated by the log steps. Leaving the woods, we crossed the road and continued in an ever upward direction on Scarth Wood Moor, a lot of climbing for a brief but enjoyable downhill which ends practically in the car park.

                                                              

At the car park The Ginger One decided to shave a little off his water bill and wash his bike in the stream, a dubious practice gleaned from that master of frugality, The Pensioner.  Secondly, it seems The Ginger One lives in such a social whirl, he is simply unable to spare fifteen minutes to wash his bike at home. Those darts won’t throw themselves, you know.

Billy No Mates at Scaling Dam

Mountain Bike Ride.

All alone.

5th April Route

Far be it from me to cast aspersions on the machismo of other Terra Trailblazers but just saying like, it was nowt but a bit of drizzle and I was a lonely boy at Scaling Dam car park, while those not actually at work were doubtless cabined up getting their hair permed or nails done or something equally effeminate. Away I went, off across the moors like Noah looking for a wood yard, complete faith in the integrity of Gore Tex and a horror of the alternatives which could have presented themselves if I had stayed at home, which undoubtedly would have involved a wife still on Easter holiday and a lot of shops; herself not sharing my antipathy to the retail world. Let’s face it, if God had meant us to go shopping he wouldn’t have invented the internet.

Back in the real world, a muddy High Tranmire Farm was passed, the ford at Hardale Beck deeper and wider than ever, the climb out of the dip was as steep and hard as ever. Better tracks lead to Green Houses and the barking spaniels which always announce our arrival, before a bit of tarmac smooths the way to Lealholm Rigg and an untried bridleway through the heather. Mainly paved but narrow with wheel trapping ditch on either side, the uneven stones leading less skilled riders to find themselves in the ditch more than once. Oh yeah, there were no other riders, it must have been me in the ditch. The rough track to Danby Beacon was hard work, against the wind and into the rain, I took a left turn to explore another bridleway which was probably best left unexplored until the weather decides to come up with a significant improvement. Emerging on the Oakley Walls road, I added to my personal sogginess by continuing on the bridleway to Clitherbeck, splashing through puddles until the road was reached.

A bit of tarmac bashing hauled me up to Robin Hood’s Butts, predictably the Robin Hood’s Butts track has reverted to it’s usual canal status, swimming pool size puddles to be negotiated before the cairn marking the start of the Sis Cross track was reached. The track was, today, a silver line, stretching across the moor to the remnants of the cross, gleaming in the weak sunlight, gleaming because it was actually a line of water. Splashing through the rivulet, the cross was reached, pictures snapped, before the gravity friendly portion of the track presents itself.  A little squelchy today but still okay.

More tarmac followed, with a long haul up to Danby Beacon, from where it is only a short blast downhill to the sublime singletrack crossing Roxby Moor, which was damp but it must be well drained because it was in reasonable condition, not the sun-baked hardness of a decent summer but without a doubt the best track of the day. Back on the High Tranmire road and it’s downhill all the way back to Scaling Dam car park. The irresistible smell of frying made a visit to the burger van mandatory, sheltering beneath the tail gate, bacon sandwich in one hand, mug of coffee in the other, wet clothes shed and down jacket donned, was I smug? Oh yes mama.

Moors And Shores 2016

Cyclocross Ride

Moors and Shores 2016.

3rd April route

The Fireman.

Stood at the start line, being dampened by a light drizzle, hoping we were not in for a repeat of last year’s soaking, we listened to the safety spiel before our batch of riders were released into the wilds of North Yorkshire, pedalling through the arch, timing chips beeping as me and The Fireman set off on our second Moors And Shores event. This year seemed much busier than last year, driving in a stream of bike racks all the way from Middlesbrough to Dalby forest. A gravelled curve leads to a pinchpoint which split the pack into single file for the initial bit of singletrack. The singletrack fed us into a fire road where the overtakers overtook, fast boys powering into the distance leaving the casual riders behind. Not being boys, fast or otherwise, me and The Fireman, ambled - pacing ourselves for the forty odd miles ahead - along with the majority of entrants; a mixture of cyclo-cross and mountain bikes, cheerily anticipating a day of mud-plugging.

Away from the fire roads and man-made tracks, surfaces were significantly softer than last year, some sections hard going, most riders opted to push or carry in true cyclo-cross style rather than battle through the gloop. The sector behind Fylingdales was a spectacular morasse of rocks, slurry and deep puddles - top marks to anyone who managed to pedal it all. Some better tracks took us to the first feed station and the split between the long and short routes, we had opted for the mini-massif, for us leaving the feed station was the start of a long downhill section on decent tracks, something like five miles of cruising before a tarmac climb brought us back to our senses. The new gearing on my bike made matters a little easier, thanks to Bobby and Chris at Stockton Cycling and Running for a top class job, the road continued into Broxa Forest where the route followed a variety of tracks before spitting us out on a road somewhere outside Scalby. The road was followed to the second feed station in the car park of The Nags Head Inn where calories were replenished, maybe even over-replenished, from a tempting display of goodies.

Replete, we left the feed station, following tarmac to Raincliffe Woods where a muddy, steep, push/carry awaited us, some folks kept riding, they had obviously  been cheating, using structured training and proper nutrition to gain an unfair advantage. The next climb comes after Wrench Green, The Fireman had been trying to remind me of this horror since the beginning but it must have been blanked from my mind, as trauma often is. Although on tarmac, shrouded by trees of Wykenham Forest, following a minor road, it is relentless, seeming to become steeper as it climbs higher, riders were capitulating all around, even within sight of the summit. The feed station sandwiches were threatening to put in a reappearance as I ground to the top, where tarmac turned to fire road and clusters of riders stood around panting and grimacing.

A network of roads and tracks took us back to Dalby Forest, part of the red mountain bike route is utilised at one point, a slightly raised singletrack weaving through the trees, requiring concentration to avoid wandering off the edge but extremely pleasant. A long fire road descent gives our legs a rest, family groups enjoying the sunny Sunday afternoon were ambling along  pausing to glance at mud-splattered wretches making their way past. A cruel final climb is an ascent too far for many people,  off their bikes and pushing like broken marionettes. Thankfully the top is gained, a left turn to a fireroad and suddenly the tents are in sight, a tired pedal through the Arch Of The Timing Chips and it’s all over, medals are draped around our necks and the smell of the catering van is suddenly irresistible. Celebratory picture snapped, mud-covered people with mud-covered bikes all around, suddenly it wasn’t too bad, a bit muddy at the start but fine really, a good event, better weather than last year but slower because of the mud. Snippets of post-mortem conversations, endorphin babble all around.

Will we be back next year - well aye.