Mountain Bike Ride.
Rod and (briefly) The Ginger One
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.
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