Mountain Biking
The Pensioner
It has been a surreal two days, after more than a decade of waiting at the top of hills for The Pensioner to catch up, it comes as a shock to have him whirring past while I suffer the usual leg-burning, heart-pounding, breathless, gurning, ignominy grinding up the steepest gradients. The Pensioner has finally purchased a Haibike, motor assisted mountain bike, giving him new found enthusiasm and us an increase in our training load. No more chatting amongst ourselves as we politely ignore the old bloke bent over his crossbar panting like a paedo in a playground, the leisurely pedalling as we try not to leave him too far in the distance, the waiting at every junction so he does not ride into the distance; now we must put in an extra spurt to keep up with him, big efforts are required even to keep him in sight on ascents, never mind catch him. Good job his singletrack and descending skills are still lacking or else we would be totally inferior to a mono-lunged sexegenerian.
My first experience began from Clay Bank, from where we made our to Urra Moor by a route through Greenhow Plantation because the steps up Carr Ridge are pretty much out of bounds for someone trying to push or carry a 60lb bicycle uphill, especially someone nearer 70 than 60 years of age. A fallen tree almost halted progress, a bit of team weightlifting occurred and we were back on track. From Round Hill, we continued on The Pensioner’s favourite type of tracks, open and wide, plenty of light and no obstacles, he cruised at breakneck speed (by his standards) until Stump Cross came into view. The descent to Bransdale is everything a mountain biker could wish for, narrow singletrack through purple heather, the occasional technical section and a steep finish down a shale drop. The Pensioner’s electric assistance was no assistance here, balance, skill and some semblance of vision being more use than volts. He reverted to his default position of old bloke at the back. Of course, he regained his mojo on the steep road climb out of Bransdale and the sandy drag back to Stump Cross. Tripsdale was our next objective, reached by more wide tracks, pleasantly downhill until the loose, steep zig-zags shoot us over the stream and up the other side, equally steep but now battling against gravity. Bionic Bike Boy rampaged up while I panted in his wake, complete role reversal as he sat and waited at the summit for me to catch up. Descending Medd Crag was a last treat before we finished the ride with a bit of tarmac to return to the car park.
The following day, my second ride, The Pensioner’s sixth - so much enthusiasm from one so old, we met at Scaling Dam for a ride about the adjacent moorland. The first climb of the route is known on Stava as The Slagbag, from the ford at Hardale Beck, a vertical line of grass and gravel which leaves ascensionists feeling like as though their lungs have been turned inside out. Struggling up, I watched The Pensioner disappear into the distance as battery power hauled him skyward. The rest of the ride continued in similar vein until we reached the SIs Cross Path above Danby being narrow singletrack for the most part, it calmed down The Pensioner’s newly-found Billy Whizz tendencies. Climbing up to Danby Beacon later, The Pensioner had the opportunity to cruise past a couple of roadies but he would not take it. From the beacon, the regular route back to Scaling Dam - the Roxby Moor singletrack - beckoned, cutting across the moor for a speedy return. The Pensioner even managed this at a reasonable speed such is the power of electricity. We were tucking into bacon sandwiches, courtesy of the catering van, a mere two and a half hours after leaving the car park, no more four and five hour epics - not until his battery runs out anyway.
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