April 2018 Round Up and Video

April 2018 Round Up and Video.

Click here for video.

Hamsterley route 13th April 2018
Lordstones route  22nd April 2018
Guisborough route  23rd April 2018

April has mostly been like a 1980’s Scottish pop group - Wet, Wet, Wet. When not actually raining, it drizzled damply, the trails were always wet, puddles were too big to ride around, off-piste was mainly sliding downhill in slop. Towards the end of the month, things picked up a bit and the combined effects of wind and budding trees has began to dry things out. Here’s to May.

It’s been another one of those months when, despite the best intentions, only four actual mountain bike rides happened, although there a few cross bike rides, (that is rides on the cyclocross bike, not rides filled with minor annoyance), including The Moors And Shores bumped up the mileage past the double century. Three quarters of the mountain bike rides were in the company of the most enthusiastic Terra Trailblazer, The Breadlad, who is always up for a ride providing he’s not constrained by the demands of churning out perfect crumpets or his globetrotting, international playboy, lifestyle.

After The Slough Of Despond ride, we managed a misty and drizzly Hamsterley, just the usual winter hotlap but enjoyable nonetheless. The next time we went out was after the freak heatwave which gave us temperatures in excess of the Mediterranean for a couple of days - naturally a couple of days when we were at work - but the following Sunday dawned bright and warm and continued like that until we parked at Lordstones. As bikes were assembled and greetings made to our other companions (we were mingling with day people again), the sky went black, knocking about ten degrees off the temperature and just to make us feel at home, a steady drizzle began which kindly accompanied us for every inch of the ride, only letting up when we were safely back in the cafe.

The final mountain bike outing of the month was a Billy No Mates affair - hard to believe I was the only person out today, everyone else either working or otherwise engaged - perhaps I ought to change my deodorant. It was not a bad day too, apart from the wind. A speculative flight of the drone on Newton Moor aiming for some nice footage of Roseberry Topping, almost ended in disaster as the wind overpowered the drone’s motors and sent it whipping away toward the distant North Sea. Luckily I managed to land it in the lovely soft heather without any damage. Lesson learnt, if you’re struggling to stand up against the wind, best leave the drone at home. The rest of the ride was spent exploring some of Guisborough’s off piste tracks, which are almost on the verge of being dry and dusty - but let’s not get too excited, snow is forecast again for the last weekend of the month and the beginning of May. Hopefully it won’t bother us because The Terra Trailblazers are again decamping to foreign climes (some camper than others) for a few days of sun-baked riding courtesy of Sierra Cycling in Fuengirola.

Adiós por ahora.

Moors And Shores 2018

Moors And Shores 2018

CX bike ride

The Fireman, Martin T.

15th April route.

It's that time of year again and the disturbingly early start to drive to Dalby Forest for another Moors And Shores. Regular ally, The Fireman was present and correct, irregular companion, Chairman Whelan had weaseled out of the ride and passed his entry to an old friend of ours, Martin T. The usual parking area was not in use owing to the slight moistness beget by the biblical rain in the preceding weeks, so parking had to be roadside with a short ride to the registration tent. The Fireman and Martin T., were, of course, already waiting for the tardy one. Helmet stickered up, handlebars numbered (for the all important photographs), map in pocket, raring to go (well, maybe showing signs of tepid enthusiasm) we joined the start queue - the long start queue. Apparently over a thousand entrants this year. 

The route was modified a lot from previous years, again owing to the abysmal weather we’ve been suffering for the past three months, unsurfaced sectors would have been quagmire in minutes. Quite a few sections were replaced with fire road, which, although giving speedy progress, are kind of boring after a while. Plus, a lack of training on my part meant I was suffering after the first ten miles, struggling to keep up with my partners, as they ambled along, chatting as though we were riding a towpath. At one point a compulsory dismount appeared where entrants had to walk for a few hundred metres, a nuisance to some, blessed relief to others. The organisers still managed to slip in a few muddy sections, so we could end the day looking like we’d had a proper ride. The main feed station was also moved this year, to the village hall in Hackness and fairly close to the end of the ride. Cruelly, the Wrench Green ascent still featured, made even worse by a bellyful of cheese sandwiches, malt loaf, twiglets and jelly babies and legs deciding to cramp with every pedal stroke, which soon became every step. The summit of this abhorrent ascent eventually arrived, the top littered with broken wrecks of cyclists; first timers shaking their heads at the sheer incongruity of the climb; the more experienced wondering why they repeat the torture year after year. 

The end, if not exactly in sight now, is definitely in smelling distance and the weather had been kind to us, managing to stay dry and occasionally sunny. Entering a pleasant section of woodland singletrack, we find a 5km to go sign hanging from a conifer, spirits rose, energy boosted like Lance after a visit to the pharmacist. Even better, the tedious fire road drag to the finish used in 2017 had been rerouted and a more or less level ride took us back to the field and the all important finisher’s medal. 

Tucking into sustaining burgers after the ride, the pain and suffering mere memories now, we made plans for the Lakeland Monster Miles. A few more miles in the legs by October - we could even consider the long one, perhaps that was just the endorphins talking.

The Slough Of Despond.

Mountain Bike Ride

The Breadlad

4th April route

The Slough Of Despond is a fictional bog in The Pilgrim’s Progress, where sinners sink under the weight of their sins; the sins of me and The Breadlad are, naturally, negligible, so it must have been the bikes and the incessant rain which conspired to drag us to the miry depths. Mentally and physically. Guisborough Woods is suffering, the trails are gloop, which my dictionary defines as, “sloppy or sticky semi-fluid matter, typically something unpleasant”. Couldn’t have put it better myself. Of course, anyone with any sense would stick to the fire roads and be satisfied with fresh air and exercise; lacking that much sense means we are forever tempted by a tree-framed singletrack disappearing into a dark woodland or a promising trail pointing down a hillside. Especially one we have not ridden before, there is an irrational optimism that somehow this trail has been bypassed by the monsoon weather and if not exactly dry and dusty, will be only slightly moist and eminently rideable. And, click, click, back in the room, hub-deep sludge, traction-free slopes following an undeviating groove in the clart to an inevitable conclusion, usually involving mud, blood and bruises.

The Breadlad, newly returned from his most recent overseas sojourn, was enthusiastic to be reunited with his bike and the local trails. His companion, being more than aware of the past fortnight’s near continuous precipitation was more circumspect. Even a fortnight is putting it generously, 2018 has been wetter than otter’s pocket thus far and showing no signs of getting better, a newspaper article yesterday offered that it may get warm in six weeks - so that’s something to look forward to eh?

Our route for today was vague involving a few hours gap between showers and a lot of looking at trail starts before dismissing them as too messy to be abused further. We used a few better surfaced tracks to make our way between quagmires and yes, we enjoyed the exercise. The few trails we attempted were all filed away in the ‘it’ll be good when it is dry’ cabinet, mainly to excuse our dismal performance. Although the when it is dry bit seems a long way off barring a science fiction type apocalypse where the earth heats up and we get in a bit of decent riding just before spontaneously combusting into a pool of molten body fat and tyre rubber. The couple of hours of slow climbs and slower descents was still hugely enjoyable and preferable to the spouse led alternatives on offer which would inevitably involve shops of the non-bike variety or DIY drudgery. From previous experience, we know the place will dry up sometime, this year somewhat later than usual but this is why God invented abroad.

We arrived at the Branch Walkway Cafe looking as though we had just clawed our way out of a grave, mud-splattered and, despite the lack of rain, surprisingly wet. The cafe staff, well used to seeing mountain bikers in their natural state did not bat an eyelid and we were soon getting on the outside of coffee and sandwiches as the weather forecast proved disappointingly accurate and the afternoon rain began.

March 2018 Round Up and Video

March 2018 Round Up and Video

Didn't pay enough attention at school? Don't do words? Skip to video here.

As month’s go, this March has not been the most conducive to cycling miles. More snow than an eskimo could shake a stick at, then the thaw, then the rain, not to mention the wind. Not so much, in like a lion; out like a lamb as, in like a polar bear; out like a porpoise riding a tsunami. Plus assorted illnesses and the odd domestic duty meant the monthly mile tally barely broke the century barrier. Let’s hope this ill wind blowing nobody any good is the harbinger of a decent summer.

Here’s a quick catch up on the rides which went unblogged.

New Bike Day
22nd March route
All alone

That time has come round again, when the cost of servicing the old bike becomes a consideration against the price of a new one and some bargain prices from Bike Scene meant a pre-retirement present was an offer I couldn’t refuse. I left the shop with a brand new stumpy and headed directly to Guisborough Woods to put it through its paces. Or as close to putting it through its paces as someone too rapidly approaching their seventh decade, with the lingering after-effects of a chest infection and a dodgy back can manage. The precipitation swamped trails didn’t help either, although for once it wasn’t actually snowing, or raining, or blowing a hoolie (as we used to say in the power-kiting world). The bike ran fine, lighter than the old one, without the wobbly, side to side play from the bearings or the unreliable seatpost. And it is red, guaranteed to be faster.

A few miles round the forest and moors, taking in some old and some new trails, mainly muddy but still enjoyable, as new bike day inevitably is.

Sheepwash Shenanigans.
23rd March route
Oz

The following day found me and my new baby at Sheepwash, the ever popular car park with countryside favoured by Teessiders who like to enjoy bucolic pleasures without straying too far from their vehicles. With a companion in the shape of Oz, where the rest of the feckless dilettantes are this month is anyone’s guess. Apart from The Breadlad, who has, again, decamped to sunnier climes for another holiday - we are beginning to suspect he’s a tax exile who cannot stay in the country for more than ninety days.

One of our usual Sheepwash starts, up the road to the antennas, was matted with a generous covering of thorn bush trimmings, effectively putting it out of bounds to any cyclist not in the mood for multiple punctures - this seems to be the country way. Even places which profess to encourage cyclists are not averse to shaving the hedges with a tractor and leaving the trimmings all over the road or track. We rode directly to Clain Woods and down the steps, a little damp and greasy but a fun start to a ride. Across to Heathwaite to begin climbing to Live Moor plantation, past the old shale tips, remnants of an old ironstone mine from the mid nineteenth century, (more details here) and then the superb singletrack through the woods to Faceby Plantation. The track, today, suffering from this month’s excessive precipitation, mainly muddy with the odd gloopy patch. At Faceby the full force of the wind became apparent, all the ride so far had benefited from the shelter of trees, unfortunately a head wind all the way to Swainby, a slight respite as we carried our bikes back up the Clain Wood steps, then more of the same back to Sheepwash, bringing back memories of The Sandstone Way, three days of fifty mph headwinds - what fun that was. At the car park, any thoughts of an extra loop or two were shelved in favour of the crusty dyke cafe despite our mileage failing to even reach double figures.

A Local Ride For Local People.
24th March route
All alone

Footage for this month’s video being somewhat scarce up to now, I thought maybe a local ride to show viewers the urban delights of Teesside might pad things out a bit. I left home in a slight drizzle which soon stopped as the sun tried bravely to force a few rays through the cloud. Not clouds, just cloud, one gigantic cloud which has covered the area for the thick end of three months now.

Today being Saturday there was plenty of action at The Tees Barrage White Water Course, kayakers and canoeists enjoying their hobby, a hobby where rain is an irrelevance - I can see the appeal. I had a simple ride along the river, through the little Venice of Teesdale to the Surtees Bridge at Thornaby and returning along the other side of the river. The full scale model of HMS Endeavour is being dismantled and taken to Whitby, a more fitting setting for the vessel of Captain Cook. A large group of swans - bevy, bank or herd for collective noun pedants - congregate next to the casino, maybe waiting for a flutter on the tables or possibly to mug lucky punters with their arm-breaking wings. As any child of the sixties knows, a swan can break a man’s arm; do mothers’ still issue this warning to their offspring? Or has the possibility of being in the presence of a swan been usurped by the vicarious pleasure of David Attenborough, where natures red in tooth and claw can be experienced through mega-pixels and UHD resolution.

I finished my ride on the excellent singletrack which skirts the northern boundary of Holme House Prison, it could be in Dalby Forest if it wasn’t for the Keep Out signs. And the sun was out by now, laughing at my winter layers, squeezing sweat from every pore, time for home.

Good Friday
30th March route
Oz, Rod, Andy T., Ernesto

Strange name Good Friday, what is good about it? I’m sure Jesus wasn’t too thrilled about it - and not just because the pubs close early. The good thing about this Friday was the weather forecast, which predicted a gap in the almost permanent rain for a few hours, hence, it came to pass a whole five of us found ourselves in Pinchinthorpe car park, two shift workers and three day workers, the three day workers are relishing a four day weekend. They were so happy, we didn’t have the heart to point out we consider four days off to be a short lull because it is not a ten or eighteen day break. Trailmeister Rod lead the way and we spent a few hours of climb, slither down muddy trail, fall of remount and repeat until the siren call of the cafe became too strong and we joined a legion of freshly released day people at the visitor centre.