Mountain Bike Ride
Monday 3rd September route
The Breadlad, The Youth
Another trawl about Guisborough Woods, this time accompanied by The Youth and The Breadlad. Our route took in quite a few tracks in its relatively brief few miles and a boat load of climbing - 2,000ft in less than 12 miles but the weather was kind, continuing with the sunshine. The Breadlad’s new favourite track is Nomad 2, a typical example of the Guisborough trail fairies endeavours, steep with extra added steepness, he rode it with aplomb, The Youth’s descent was somewhat less nonchalant, he managed the first steep bit before engaging in what can only be described as a violent dismount at the bottom. Fair play to him, he went back to the top and rode it all again. My own efforts? As they used to say in the old News Of The World; I made my excuses and left. Later we moved on to The Chute, widely regarded as a Guissy Woods classic descent, its various incarnations have been keeping riders amused for a decade or two. The original gully which give it its name is changed beyond recognition, especially now all the trees have been felled, originally it was accessed straight off the fire road and finished with ride up and around the fence at the bottom, usually worryingly wet and slippery. The upper section came later, a brilliant piece of work complimenting the bottom section, this bit is still pretty much as it was, the lower part now threads a way through the detritus of tree felling but it is still a great ride and we enjoyed every bit of it.
Feeling a little giddy from our (virtually) flawless downhilling, we decided to ride up the tarmac ascent out of Hutton Village to access some more trails. On the way towards the Roseberry Topping end of the woods we encountered a lost looking cyclist, on his first visit to Guisborough, slightly bemused by the complete lack of signage on the trails. Spending cuts, we explained before introducing him to a few tracks as we headed toward the cafe, the dual slalom was popular, on Les’s 3 I was able to demonstrate the correct way of using a bramble bush to break a fall and we finished with that old favourite, Hospital Corner, so-called because of a sign which some wag once placed at the top, one arrow pointing left along the fire road, saying Home, the other arrow pointing down the steep track saying Hospital. And then it was cafe time, sitting outside, toasties and coffee, sweaty, muddy, battered, bruised, thorn-slashed and nettle-stung, we all agreed it had been a great ride.
Cross Bike Ride
Tuesday 4th September route
The Little Woman
Just to prove it’s not all about blood, sweat and gears, today was a gentler ride, a couple of hours out introducing the little woman to the delights of the countryside by velocipede. I don’t call her the little woman to be patronising, it’s just she is a woman, or was last time I looked, she has a definite predilection for cushions and scented candles, and she doesn’t see a parade unless she gets there three hours early for kerbside place. She could maybe have done with a cushion on her bike seat by the end of the ride but the scented candle kept blowing out. We rode to the small village of Wolviston and continued by quiet lanes to Wynyard Woodland Park, or the Castle Eden Walkway, or Thorpe Thewles Station, I can’t keep up with the name changes. As would be expected from someone who rode to work for over ten years, eight miles a day, forty miles a week, she was fairly nippy on the roads and we set a fine pace. Less confident off-road, especially on the tree root-covered paths through the woods away from the walkway, part of a bridleway which cuts through to the Wynyard housing estate. Back on tarmac we rode through the estate, one of us impressed by the big houses, the other marvelling at the emptiness and sterility of the place, like riding through a film set when the crew have all gone to the catering van. More tarmac took us through the grounds of Wynyard Hall, once the family seat of the Marquess of Londonderry, whatever a marquess might be, I thought it was a chocolate biscuit. Or is that a viscount? we exited through the Golden Gates and made our way home. Over eighteen miles, pretty good for a first ride, a quick bite to eat and then she went to buy some padded shorts and a helmet.
Mountain Bike Ride
Wednesday 5th September route
The Breadlad, Young Briggs
Another day: another bike ride. Hamsterley this time with The Breadlad and Young Briggs, the day began a bit dull but soon developed into a blazing hot, sweat in the eyes sort of day. For a change we rode past Pike’s Teeth and out onto the moor to revisit the Doctor’s Gate track, nowadays suffering from some 4x4 abuse, deep trenches carved into the wide track. But hey, a downhill is a downhill and we were all grinning when we reached the gate back into the forest. A track through the trees was spotted to the right of the gate, in a temerarious frame of mind, we eschewed the brick-strewn Rocky Road in favour of a bit of exploration and were rewarded with a pleasant bit of off-piste through the trees, how it will hold up in winter remains to be seen. Probably a sloppy mess like most of Hamsters off-piste. Reaching a fire road, emboldened by our trail-finding success, we set off down another track we spotted disappearing into the trees, until a deep trench barred the way, complete with handily placed rock to launch ourselves over the void. A bit out of our league then. Lacking both body armour and balls, we returned to the top of the track with metaphorical tails between legs, where met Hamsterley legend Bobby Boyd, who introduced us to another off-piste track, which may or may not have been called Boltcropper, before demonstrating the aforementioned rock jump as casually as we might bump over a tree root, as he set off for home.
We continued on the more usual tracks, all dry and enjoyable, except for the climbs, hot, sweaty and fly-blown. As the old saying goes “It’s all fun until someone gets hurt.” and Section 13 claimed a victim with Young Briggs whose attempts to keep up with a pensioner (no capital P) ended in calamity, a lot of limping and game over for the youngster. Luckily his bike was unscathed, as were the old blokes and we continued down Special K and Brainfreeze to rejoin Young Briggs in the car park.
Mountain Bike Ride
Friday 7th September route
Charlie,Keith and Daryl. Aka The Nissan Nomads
Last time I rode with Charlie and Keith, it was beneath the blazing sun of the mediterranean, clattering down dusty trails on our most recent Sierra Cycling holiday; they managed to pick the worst day of the past three months to make the long trek south from the lawless realm of Sunderland, through the smoking spires of industrial Teesside to a damp and drizzly car park just outside Guisborough. And they had brought a proper rider with them, young, goggles, balls the size of ostrich eggs, he was in for a shock when he was introduced to what passes for extreme among those closer to sixty than they care to admit. This was Daryl, who seemed happy just to be shown some tracks he had not been on before; unlike the other two, this was not his first visit to Guisborough. It has been raining most of the night and intermittent showers ensured the trails, in complete contrast to Monday, remained just the wrong side of slippy. After the usual fire road slog up to Roseberry Common, I led them on a circumnavigation of Roseberry Topping, via The Bluebell Woods and The Elephant’s Hole to Aireyholme Farm and back up to Roseberry Common. From the gate we did the push/carry up the steps to Newton Moor, as I pointed out many of the tracks we could have been riding, given an unlimited supply of time and energy. Eagle-eyed readers, or just those who actually bother to read this rubbish at all, might notice some similarities between today’s route and Monday’s route - this was not unintentional. However the grippy and flowing tracks from four days ago were now slippy chutes to be approached with caution, apart from Daryl, who rode them as casually as suburban cycle tracks, while us slightly more mature gentlemen may lack his youth and talent, we make up for it in other ways not easily discerned; our riding skill so well hidden, casual observers might be fooled into thinking we were beginners.
Track followed track as we snaked our way through the woods, damp and muddy, more slips and falls than a drunk on his first trip to an ice rink, Charlie in particular, managing some leg-trapping dismounts, as he threw caution to the wind on his first ride on flat pedals. Daryl had to leave us after The Chute, while we found the energy to ride back uphill into the woods to take in a few more trails before the cafe. We’d managed a good few hours in the woods and surrounding area, despite the showers but only managed a fraction of the tracks, without even considering Gribdale and Captain Cook’s areas. And after that, there is the rest of the North York Moors to go at, not to mention the Yorkshire Dales. I’m sure the Nissan Nomads will be venturing this way again soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment