Blustery Bilsdale

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Breadlad.

10th April route.

Bright sunshine and dry trails but the cool wind didn’t let us forget it is still only April, the Easter holidays appear to have started for a lot of people judging by the rapidly filling Lordstones’ car park. Those of who keep the wheels of industry turning while the normal world eat, drink and make merry (or more realistically, trudge round garden centres or veg out in front of Bank Holiday television) managed to coordinate our shift patterns and grab a few hours away from the stress of industrial life.

The usual drag up the old access road to the gliding club was slightly wind-assisted which, despite being a pleasant treat meant we would have to think carefully about our return route to avoid battling into a headwind. From the top we followed dry tracks to Whorlton Moor and paid a visit to the caves in the tiny valley of Thackdale, actually the remains of a long disused jet mining enterprise, a few low tunnels which can be linked together without any sort of specialised potholing kit, just a torch and a disregard for claustrophobia and the thought of hundreds of tonnes of earth above your head.

Continuing past Snotterdale (a North Yorkshire joke, it’s not a dale. Who needs Stephen Fry when we have wit of that standard?) we took a cheeky trail through the woods to join the bridleway in Live Moor Plantation. This bridleway is one of our regular favourites, speedy singletrack through woods, then an open field to Faceby, from where a track through more fields leads to Whorlton Lane and usually to Swainby via Whorlton Castle. Today, however an enticing bit of singletrack, signposted Swainby, presented itself, in the spirit of Livingstone and Scott, we threw caution to the wind and set off to explore. Down through a coppice to a gate, all very nice, through the gate into open meadow, followed by more gates and more meadows, all very well signposted but only slightly less boring than those death by Powerpoint training days the management love to persecute us with at work.

Emerging on the outskirts of Swainby, meant we only had a slight climb to Clain Woods and the undulating bridleway which eventually leads to Harfa Bank Farm, where we paused to fiddle with The Breadlad’s gears. Using our combined knowledge and a bit of luck, we re-indexed them, regaining access to the big cogs at the back just in time for the massive climb out of the Scugdale Valley. The long haul from Scugdale Hall to Stoney Wickes possibly the driest it has ever been, spring has definitely sprung in this part of the world. From the mini craglets of Stoney Wickes we made our way down to Raisdale Mill Cottages via a route of dubious legality but preferable to the rutted monstrosity that Raisdale Mill Lane has become.

Which left us only the road drag back to Lordstones, not the best finish that could have been formulated but the cafe was calling it’s inaudible siren song and at least we’d outwitted the wind.

Moors And Shores 2017

Moors And Shores 2017

Cross Bike Ride

The Fireman.

2nd April route

Approaching Saltersgate on the Pickering road, cyclists could be spotted silhouetted high on Hazelhead Moor, already well into this year’s Moors And Shore ride; it was before eight am and I wasn’t even near the car park. What time did these people get up? Or maybe they just bivouacked in the trees near the start line. When me and The Fireman saw the queue, we wished we had, a line of cyclists, 3 and 4 abreast snaking around the field, popular this year, the numbers breaking the four figure mark, all paying good money to battle through North Yorkshire accompanied by several hundred like minded souls.

Shivering slightly in the cool morning air, we slowly approached the start until our batch was captured by red and white tape to listen to the safety briefing, after which we were released into the wild, bottlenecking into a pleasant singletrack, where the rider in front dictated the pace. The singletrack fed us onto a fireroad where the fast boys immediately began jockeying for position as though they were in the last 100 metres of a Spring Classic, not the first mile of a leisurely amble. Us older, wiser and slower kids settled into a steady rhythm which would, hopefully, see us through the next 45 miles or so.

The route is very varied, utilising moorland tracks, fireroads, man-made singletrack in the forests, a few swampy bits and the inevitable road sections. Leaving the forest behind, we crossed the moor above Saltersgate, following the tyre tracks of those early morning riders spotted hours ago, before a slippery descent to Malo Cross and muddy singletrack around the back of Fylingdales Early Warning station, it’s generators drowning out the voices of riders. A wide, stony track to the first feed station, a few deep puddles making me glad I’d stuck with the waterproof boots and socks. A bite to eat before we embark on one of the highlights of the ride, 7 miles of descent to Langdale End. A mixture of fireroad, tarmac and doubletrack, unfortunately followed by a big climb to Broxa and beyond, initially on road before levelling into some meandering woodland tracks through Broxa Forest, reverting to tarmac again for a speedy run to the second food stop at Scalby. The mere words, food stop, are inadequate to describe the feast laid out before us, trestle tables laden with calorific goodness, the favourite snacks of every cyclist made available, from Jelly Babies to cheese sandwiches.

Knowing the infamous Wrench Green climb was still to come, efforts were made to avoid overeating, admittedly very pitiful efforts, our willpower slightly less than that of an alcoholic at a free bar. Enough carbs ingested to fuel a meeting of bulimics anonymous, we set off again, climbing a very muddy slope through Raincliffe Woods, before the aforementioned  Wrench Green climb, nemesis of many entrants, all chatter ceased, the silence only broken by the sounds of exertion, puffing, panting and the odd bit of quiet weeping. The pedestrian option was taken by a large percentage of aspirants, the foolish continued grinding upward, I had reached the stage of wondering if the the food stop goodies would look quite as appetising projectile vomited over the handlebars when, thankfully, the summit came into view, the road levelling to join a fireroad in Wykeham Forest.  Nausea subsided, we continued, mainly through the woods, taking in some fine singletrack and fast double track, only marred by evidently inexperienced riders who think it’s acceptable to stop without warning in the middle of a track, or at the end of sectors, while they have a drink or wait for their mates.

This year’s finish had been altered slightly, avoiding a track near the Low Dalby visitor centre, usually busy with casual strollers, instead opting for a deceptive drag, clicking down through the gears until they were gone, finally admitting this track is steeper than it looks, my nutrition strategy, (shovel it in at the food stop) proved flawed and forty odd miles of pedalling took its toll, The Fireman pulled away and I was left to plod upward on empty legs, overtaking and being overtaken the whole way. A few electric bike people whose batteries had proved unequal to the Moors And Shores miles were pushing their 60lb steeds up the slope.  After an eternity the fire road levelled out then began to drop, another slight climb and we popped out back at the Adderstone field and the welcoming sight of the finish arch.  

One more medal for the collection, obligatory photograph, visit to the catering van, eating chips in the sunshine, in a field surrounded by sweaty cyclists and muddy bikes. “Another one over.” “It wasn’t too bad really.” “At least the weather was okay.” “Are we doing the next one?”  

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

March 2017 Round Up and Video

March 2017 Round Up and Video.

Don’t do words? Click here.

Another month over, another month nearer retirement, or 210 shifts as of today. Not that I’m counting. It’s been a canny March, looks even better on the video, the sky wasn’t blue all month but it did stay fairly warm and the trails dried up nicely, muddy patches here and there but nothing to hold up athletes like us. I managed to grind out 325 miles in the month but that included a couple of road rides and a long cross bike ride where I rode across Percy Cross Rigg and Newton Moor on what must have been the busiest saturday of the year. A few rays of sunshine and the place is mobbed. Where are they all when it’s blowing a hoolie or sleeting merrily? Wandering about shopping malls like zombies or cabbaged out in front of the TV, or worse, riding turbo trainers in their garages?

There’s an old saying which goes something along the lines of “if you’re not falling off, you’re not trying hard enough.” I must have been trying extra hard because I managed two proper tumbles over the bars in addition to the numerous unplanned dismounts which make up a normal day’s riding. Scratched and bruised but ultimately satisfied with the month’s adventures.