CX Biking With The Cafe Racers.

CX Bike Ride

The Fireman, Simon W., Adam R., Dom, Rich

22nd September route

Another ride out with the remnants of the mighty Cafe Racers, for once taking the hint, dragging out their cyclo-cross bikes and venturing on to the rough stuff, rather than the silky smooth tarmac their hearts’ desire.The relative popularity of off-road riding against the tedium of tarmac cannot be denied, Terra Trailblazers’ mountain bike rides being rather better attended than the Cafe Racer’s spurious outings. Although they did scrape together half a dozen attendees for this ride, must be something to do with the route planning, which cunningly avoids any major hills unlike the deviant ascent orgies beloved of Chairman Whelan. The starting group rapidly became five as The Fireman realised he had forgotten his shoes and sped off home to collect them, arranging to meet us further on.

Leaving Ingleby Greenhow behind, pleasant country lanes led us through Kildale to Percy Cross crossroads, where we turned right for Kildale moor and dragged ourselves up a large hill, included primarily to assuage the chairman’s perverted lust for gravity defiance. More tarmac brought us to the oddly named Fowl Green, near Commondale, where our ‘gravel’ bikes began to justify their existence on the gentle bridleway past Box Hall and its continuation through Danby Park. There was a little churlish muttering from certain parties, unaccustomed to the buttock-battering properties of rigid bikes and gravel but they loved it really.

The Fireman rejoined us at Danby and The Chairman was compelled to sample the public convenience, as an appeasement for missing out on his favourite toilets at Rosedale Abbey. Ablutions complete, we made our way to Fryupdale, via Ainthorpe and Danby Castle, returning to offroad riding at Stone Beck Gate Farm, following the low level bridleway through fields. The lumpy grass and rocky ruts sorted the men from the boys, our average speed suffered, bikes became manure magnets and blood was drawn at one point. A very sketchy cattle grid marked the end of this sector, where we regrouped and relaxed with a few more miles of road riding, although the second hill of the ride - Glaisdale Rigg - might not be considered particularly relaxing. This route having being planned by a bone-idle process operator, Glaisdale Rigg was also the last hill of the ride, taking us up to the Cut Gate track, which curves magnificently round the head of Fryupdale to Trough House. Wholly offroad and lately sanitised beyond recognition, it’s nowadays predominantly a gravel track, with the odd rocky section, ideally suited to cross bikes but a far cry from the technical rock festival it was a few years ago.

Trough House came and went, soon afterward we were in the exceptionally full Lion Inn ordering lunch surrounded by ramblers and day trippers, sweaty Lycra ensuring our personal space was not invaded. A table cleared, we jumped in and awaited our grub, which arrived fairly promptly, considering how busy the place was. Fed and watered, we eventually reached a point beyond prevarication and swung weary legs back over cross bars, mid-afternoon but already a chill in the air, the weather is taking a turn towards autumnal after beginning as the warmest September since the world began turning (or something). The remaining ten miles or so of our route were more amenable than the first thirty. From The Lion Inn, we rode to the old Rosedale Railway track and followed its meandering course across the moors to the old crossing at Bloworth, the wooden crossing still visible through the soil after all these years. There were cottages here once and a crossing keeper whose job it was to open the crossing twice a day - a bit overworked by process operator standards; apparently it was an unpopular posting, the whole area nicknamed Siberia on account of the fact there could still be snow in May.

No snow today, just a bit of late-summer sunshine as we continued on the railway to the Ingleby Incline, which plummets (quite literally) down the hillside before levelling out and continuing to Bank Foot Farm. Chairman Whelan’s depravity normally compels him to ride up the incline, so today was something of a novel experience for him. Well, for most of us really, especially on skinny tyre bikes, done it plenty of times on the mountain bike, scene of my personal land speed record, 47.6 mph, if you must know. We didn’t even approach that sort of speed today, discretion, valour and all that, instead simply enjoying the cruise down to Bank Foot.

Another mile or so on tarmac and we were back at Ingleby Greenhow and able to rest our aching limbs - except for The Fireman who still had to make his way back to Danby, purist that he is, he declined offers of a lift and pedalled off into the afternoon sunshine.

One Shiny Broken Boy

 Mountain Bike Ride

The Pensioner, The Bread Lad, The Youth, Trainee#2, Olly

21st September route

A sudden resurgence in mountain biking popularity this month saw another turnout in the half dozens, from yesterday’s team we merely swapped Oz and The Fireman for a Pensioner and a Bread Lad. The creche - The Youth, Trainee#2 and Olly, were out for their second day in a row, keen. The young contingent effectively splitting the team in two - three over forties and three under forties. Forty plus average age, fifty seven: sub-forty average age, twenty three. Hmm, age and experience versus youth and fitness, wily old foxes and young hares, or ought that to be wily old tortoises.

Today’s route is essentially some loops around Teesside’s favourite bucolic idyll, the rural honeypot that is Sheepwash; popular because it has all the benefits of the countryside without actually losing sight of your car. And there is usually an ice cream van. Honed athletes that we are, it’s usually possible for us to ignore the temptation of 99’s, at least until the end of the ride, irrelevant today because Mr. Whippy had whipped off somewhere else.

Our first loop took us steeply up Scarth Wood Moor to the collection of antennae overlooking the A19, from where we followed a track back down to Osmotherley, a speedy descent with the usual mountain bike seasoning of rocks and roots to keep things interesting. Ascending again, we passed Cod Beck Reservoir and panted up through the woods to High Lane picking up the tail end of The Hambleton Drove road, which we promptly followed downwards to the ford at Sheepwash, over the ‘challenging’ rock steps, which are either getting bigger or my cajones are shrinking, it’s been a some time since this rider casually launched down that slope. Only The Bread Lad managed a clean ascent, showing the young ones how it’s done.

Loop three was larger, taking us into Clain Woods and down the steps on the Cleveland Way, wide and gravelly, the young ones on their hardtails suffering while us more mature gentlemen, clicked suspension to full bounce and went as fast as our aging bodies (or  more cautious minds would) allow - so probably a bit slower than the creche. Some gentler riding took us to the cottages at Heathwaite, where stopped on some convenient seating for a mid-ride refuel in the sunshine before tackling the hill up to Faceby Plantation, the drag up the steps well worth it for the singletrack through the woods toward Faceby. Even The Pensioner almost cracked a smile. We made our way through the villages of Whorlton and Swainby to regain the moors via Scarth Nick, the cleft in the hills made by Scarth the giant when, according to legend, he was a bit radged one day,. Although a more plausible hypothesis has Scarth Nick as a prehistoric waterfall overflowing from the lake which filled the Scugdale valley. Must have been a long time ago - The Pensioner can’t even remember it and he had a pet brontosaurus, naturally he wanted a T. Rex but his mam said they were too aggressive and they couldn’t find a bird cage big enough for a pterodactyl.

We made it to the top, some of feeling as though we had been hit by a giant with an axe and to carry on the theme, climbed a bit higher, gaining Scarth Wood Moor again, this time from the east. The Pensioner discovered he had a little flaccidity, we reassured him it is only to expected at his age but he was talking about his back tyre. A couple of pump stops later we regrouped at the top of our ultimate descent, waiting for the hares to catch us tortoises. The Pensioner, anxious to be back at the car before his tyre went completely flat, took off down the descent like a geriatric Danny Hart, not so much Redcar Rocket as Norton Not Really Sure I Should Be Going This Fast. Olly followed with rather more elan, indulging in a bit of tail-whippery and similar young whippersnapper behaviour, clearing the steep, rocky section, carving through the singletrack, in sight of the car park, suddenly he skidded on an innocuous section of flat grass, hitting the deck but springing straight back again, the following riders assuming he was okay continued to the bottom. Olly freewheeled to join us, his new bike having suffered its first injury, the rear mech destroyed and struggling to put weight on his left leg. A quick bike swap meant he didn’t need to walk back to the cars and fifteen minutes later he was hobbling through Strike’s Garden Centre to the cafe, fitting in quite well with the legions of uber-geriatrics shuffling about the place. Or, hot chicks and cool dudes as The Pensioner deems them. Olly shovelled a massive plate of food into his face and limped back to his car, repeatedly assuring us he was okay to drive, which he seemed to be as we followed him back to Teesside.

One visit to A&E later, he was sporting a pot and beginning a seven week rest. As long as nobody ever finds out he broke his ankle trying to catch a sixty eight year old, half-deaf, partially-sighted, pensioner with one lung. Just as well nobody ever reads this blog.

August Round Up and Video

August Round Up and Video


Can't be bothered with words? Straight to video - clicky click click.


Only a short video this month and better late than never. Only a couple of mountain bike rides happened owing to that devious time thief more commonly known as work, gainful employment, occupation, profession, provider of beer tokens and shiny bike parts, probably a necessary evil except for The Pensioner. If by some sudden fluke the Prime Ministry is thrust upon me, my first decree would ban anyone from working for more than 40 years, you will all be hoofed out onto the street to enjoy the remainder of your life. Might not work for everyone but it would give the young 'uns a chance and more importantly, I'd be happy. The fortnight in the Costa Del Sol also ate into a few mountain biking days but we all need a bit of downtime to refuel, perhaps beer and tapas is not yet a recognised nutritional strategy but give it time and Team Sky will realise the benefits. Or maybe not.

Anyway, enough of this drivel, August happened, from the pictures it looks like it was sunny, it's almost the end of September now, I can't remember that far back.

Two Shiny New Bikes

Mountain Bike Ride.

Riders: The Fireman, The Youth, Trainee#2, Oz, Olly.

20th September route

Two shiny new bikes in the car park today but only one shiny new rider, young Olly, venturing out for his first ride with us and bringing the average age of a Terra Trailblazer’s ride down by about twenty years, in fact half of today’s team were born in what the remainder of us would consider the recent past. I have boxer shorts older than some of the people here today. The other shiny new bike, courtesy of our firm’s Bike To work scheme belongs to grizzled veteran and erstwhile Terra Trailblazer, Oz, who has not been spotted since the last Christmas dinner ride. The Fireman joined, making three oldies and three youngsters, a nice even split. The thought of young people, out enjoying themselves, laughing and joking, obviously was too distressing for The Pensioner who eschewed us and went for one of his remote adventures instead.

Eventually we made it out of the car park and began the tarmac warm up, ascending Percy Cross Rigg to the Sleddale turn off; the junior section exhibiting a disturbing lack of heavy breathing on the ascent. A brief downhill blast took us to Codhill Heights and more climbing, the usual chorus of moans and groans absent today, I suppose that’s one of advantage of new kids - they have no idea what is coming. The top of Highcliffe Nab became our first rest point and the inevitable group photo happened before we rode steeply down the other side, something of a technical test piece to check out everyone’s downhill skills. Oz’s bike carried him down, his face telling the story. After a speedy run down the fire road, we disappeared into the vegetation on the new, improved Lover’s Land/Lover’s Ledge track, rather muddier than we would have liked at the start, things drying up as the track traverses the open hillside, some pleasant jumps have been constructed which add to the flow, the steep finishing section was a bit greasy, claiming the odd casualty from our group - okay just me then.

All safely but not necessarily successfully down, some gruesome climbing followed from Hutton Village back into Guisborough Woods, a pause at the top for puffing/panting/defibrillation before a flat section of cruel brevity took us to The Unsuitables, one of Guisborough Wood’s most famous, or maybe infamous ascents. The gate at the top, a welcome sight, was the scene of another breather, the junior branch somehow finding the breath to exchange witty banter, while us on the verge of middle age were happy to reach the top without infarction.

The brace of shiny new bikes were now looking more like off road velocipedes ought to, mud splattered and sweat-stained. Percy Cross Rigg came and went, young Olly leading the pack on the rocky downhill, showing all the impetuousness of someone yet to have a bone-breaking crash. We made our way around the Lonsdale Bowl and down Finger-Bender Bank, so called following an unfortunate Pensioner related incident some years ago. It is amazing how far a finger can bend without actually breaking. Didn’t stop him moaning about it though. Andy’s track was our next objective, a steep chute leading down to Gribdale, the bracken, however, had other ideas, with no Middlesbrough drug dealers amongst us we were lacking a machete, so after a spirited battle with seemingly sentient bracken which was determined to wrap itself around any vertical object, we capitulated and made our way to Gribdale via a different track.

The ultimate climb loomed, the fire road to Captain Cook’s Monument, although the ride, so far, had barely made it into double figure mileage, the climbing and the pace was beginning to tell, even The Rugrats were quiet for a bit as we plodded slowly upward, failing as usual on the steep section around the memorial plaque. A quick sit down at the monument to Australia’s first illegal immigrant but the cool wind was in no way preferable to hot coffee, a unanimous and mostly unspoken decision saw us plunging down to Mill Bank Woods and directly to Glebe Cottage for the highlight of the ride. Just in time, as a distinctly unfriendly drizzle descended on us for the last half mile.

Misty Moors

Mountain Bike Ride

14th September Route

For what is supposed to be the hottest September since September's were invented, today could be classed as a bit of a disappointment. Wind off sea plus warm land equals cold and misty. Not just a few bits of patchy fog blowing in tatters across the moor but a proper Hound Of The Baskervilles pea-souper, cloying the vista, shrouding our usual views. Further west would have been wiser but arrangements made and all that. Another big turn out too, enough for a football team, so long as it's seven a side. Our usual start from Scaling Dam, directly to the test piece known as The Slagbag, the first challenge of the day for Trainee#2, it did not seem to be too much of a challenge. We rode onward in our cloud cocoon, a few miles of quiet tarmac to Oakley Walls, where we reverted to off road on the track to Clitherbeck Farm, no sign of the mist lifting despite vague promises it would improve as the day went on.

Next we rode along Robin Hood’s Butts, looking carefully for the Sis Cross track, luckily a cairn and a wooden post mark the start of the bridleway, visibility being somewhat constrained today. We followed the surprisingly dry track through the heather, although the atmosphere was wetter than Whitney Houston’s last joint, the track was dry and firm, the majority of moisture coming from the heather which coated with water from the cloud we were blundering through. The 5.10 wearers were destined for wet feet. From Sis Cross, the track goes downhill, we followed it, cleaving the heather, barely able to see the rider in front.

Regaining the road, a group discussion ensued, all in favour of an ‘extra loop’ to take in Ainthorpe Rigg, no objections, so we sped through Danby and up the hill through Ainthorpe to the bridleway. Trainee#2 pulling some sneaky overtaking manoeuvres, much to the disgust of The Pensioner, who believes the rightful place for trainees is at the back. The steady plod over Ainthorpe Rigg is rewarded with a fine view over Fryupdale and a steep descent of Crossley Side, today the view was not much in evidence but the descent was as much fun as usual, starting in a steep and rocky gully which opens out to a rutted greensward. Trainee#2 learnt an essential mountain biking skill on the descent; the over the handlebars involuntary dismount, fortunately cushioned by a whole summer’s growth of heather.

We carried on through some herds of cows, all bovine curiosity and borderline hysteria as they pondered whether to stand their ground, run away or trample us into the mud. Once attending a rodeo apparently qualified me as chief wrangler and I was despatched first to draw the attention of the beasts as half a dozen mud covered lycra louts sneaked along behind me.

Some arduous climbing took us up to Danby Beacon, The Bread Lad finding an extra gear or maybe some crumpet power and showing us all a clean pair of heels and a mud stained buttock cleft as he blasted up the hill. At the beacon, the relentless mist reduced the view to mere feet, as we took a last breather before tackling the sublime Roxby Moor singletrack. Again the track was dry but the heather wet, it hardly mattered now, we could almost smell the bacon sandwiches, it was not long before we had said bacon sandwiches in our hands, along with hot drinks from the van in Scaling Dam car park, the mist still encircling us.

A September Trio

A September Trio

Mountain Bike Rides

Here we are, halfway through September and not a blog written, best put it down to post-holiday blues and a dearth of riding (for me anyway) for the majority of August. Up now I have managed a mere three mountain bike rides this month but they have been enjoyable and two thirds of them were so well attended I had to check for a Christmas tree in the corner of the front room. We have gained another trainee, the last one decided going to Cyprus and getting married was somehow more important than being sweaty and muddy in North Yorkshire. The new trainee has been a revelation, launching fully-fledged into mountain biking without the usual beginner shortcomings, tackling uphills and technical descents like a seasoned pro. Much to the fascination of The Pensioner, who views all trainees as organ farms, ripening up through exercise to provide him with legs, lungs and eyes as required.

5th September route

Our first ride of the month was from Kildale, a whole seven of us having a pedal around the usual tracks around Guisborough Woods and Newton Moor. Utilising progressively more technical tracks to test Trainee#2 ( the original trainee’s position is being kept open for when he realises married life will never be as good as mountain biking). Trainee#2 mastered everything we threw at him, even leaving behind The Youth, despite being a decade older and having the disadvantage of being a bone idle process operator.

6th September route

The following day, only The Pensioner and me met at Sheepwash for a scrounge about Scarth Woods and the Swainby/Whorlton/Faceby area, riding some of our usual tracks in the opposite direction just because we could. Not altogether a success but some of the reversals were worthwhile.

12th September route

Our third ride in September was a repeat of The Pensioner’s classic Gunnerside route down in the Yorkshire Dales for the benefit of Rod and Trainee#2. Although we are having the warmest September since 1911. The precipitous Gunnerside Gill, littered with the remnants of industrial buildings and the devastation rent by historic hush mining is always an awesome sight, the carry out the other side is not so enjoyable. At the Old Gang Lead Smelting Mill we stopped for a breather and a poke about the old buildings. At some time in the future people will be poking about in the remnants of our control room and trying to imagine what people did in there all day, wondering why the most used artifact in the building was the kettle. The ascent from High Level Bridge to Moor House was Kryptonite to Trainee#2, reducing him to a mere human and his rightful place at the back of the peloton. The descent from Moor House is a classic and the ones who had never rode it declared it (quite rightfully) awesome. Reaching the village, our only disappointment of the day ensued - the cafe was closed. Again. That’s twice in two visits, I could get a complex, luckily for us (but probably to the chagrin of the chef) we made it into The Kings Head two whole minutes before they stopped taking food orders. We can all heartily recommend the baguettes. And the beer.

The August round up and (very brief) video will follow in due course - time permitting.