Mountain Bike Ride.
All alone.
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.
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