Mountain Bike Ride.
The Fireman. The Ginger One.
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.
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