"I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when."

“I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when” Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues. I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when either but at least I can have a shower without the ongoing threat of having my almost middle-aged body abused by Big Bubba, The Beast Of B wing. It’s been a grim week (and it’s only Wednesday), last week’s perpetual mist gave way to an East wind coming directly from the steppes of Russia and carrying rain colder than the Devil’s semen. A brass monkey would be castrato before he’d turned a pedal. If the sun doesn’t appear soon we’ll all be on vitamin D tablets.

“Oi, conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative...”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“And who are you?”

“Oscar Wilde.”

“Have you met Big Bubba?”

“Was he in Reading Gaol?”

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Little Woman

19th November 2018 route

Monday. We suffered from some mendacious meteorology today, setting off from Scaling Dam under the forecast cloudy sky. So far: so good. Within half a mile a few spots of rain caressed us, which soon progressed to a disappointing volume of water, aided and abetted by the vicious east wind. Time for The Little Woman to find out what mountain biking is really like, to be fair she endured the cold and wet stoically, while I cursed and raged at the BBC, the met office, Wincie Willis, the weather gods and anyone else I could think of for misleading us onto a wide open moor in a face-shredding hail storm. If they could have got their act together I would have chose a nice, sheltered forest, a pair of winter gloves and my hands might not have been frozen to the handlebars by the time we got back to the car. It was a grand little route too, finishing on the singletrack across Roxby Moor. 

Tuesday. Actually managed a rest day this week, although I did spend some time in a bike shop, so the day wasn’t completely wasted.

Mountain Bike Ride

The Breadlad, Howard.

21st November 2018 route

Wednesday. Me and The Breadlad went to Hamsterley, once the daily A19 traffic jam had cleared, the place where every morning and evening day workers go to crash into each other. We met Howard, who has temporarily forsaken time trialling for some proper cycling. Whatever time trialling is. The Terra Trailblazers idea of a time trial is getting to the cafe before it shuts. The forecast wasn’t good, we went prepared to get wet and get wet we did but mainly from puddles rather than precipitation, it has rained for days now and there seems to be a permanent dusk, like living in the aftermath of a fabled volcanic eruption which blocks out ninety percent of the light and leads ultimately to the death of mankind except for a few survivors for whom sunlight is unknown because they spend all their time in darkened rooms playing computer games. They will repopulate the world, when they find the disproportionately small cadre of surviving female gamers, finally losing their virginities to produce a new human race of myopic, hunch-backed beings with giant thumbs and ultra-sharp reflexes but the muscle-tone of a jellyfish, who survive on energy drinks and artificially-flavoured corn snacks. But I may have digressed. 

We rode some wet trails, not straying off-piste because we didn’t fancy sliding downhill in sloppy rut, the official trails hold up well in the winter because they have money spent on them, something Guisborough Woods don’t seem to have grasped and that money comes from the car parking fees, something the trail-burglars of Bedburn don’t seem to have grasped. For anyone especially interested we did, Section 13, Special K, Brainfreeze, nobody is interested in Boneshaker since the uphill finish was added. A quick blast along The Grove Link before the long drag to Polties Last Blast, which segues nicely into K Line, then the triple tranny, which isn’t one of the films The Ginger One watches on that laptop which looks like a plasterers radio, but Transmission, Accelerator and Nitrous. By then we were pretty much soaked through, so we retired to the 68 Cafe for warmth and sustenance. 

Mountain Bike Ride

22nd December 2018 route

The Breadlad, The Youth

Thursday. Back to the dystopian future of drizzle and mist, Blakely Ridge is once again cocooned in grey sky and greyer tarmac - nothing else to see, if it wasn’t for the wind, we could be in a steam room somewhere. Instead we’re at Blakey Bank Top, all wishing we weren’t but not ready to admit it. Me, The Breadlad and The Youth set off along the railtrack before plunging down the hillside, on the track which leads to Dale Head Farm, or more importantly, Dale Head Farm Tearoom. Even by Terra Trailblazer’s standards, ten minutes into the ride is a bit too early for bait time, so we turned off onto the first of Rosedale’s three Daleside Roads - must be a bit confusing for the postman - this one is Daleside Road (track) on the map and I’d like to say it is a pleasant, technical downhill over which the trail fairies have sprinkled easy jumps and flowing berms. I’d like to say that but it would be about as true as what our wives think we paid for our bikes, in reality, it is a muddy plod across fields full of incontinent sheep and an interminable amount of gates, until we reached Daleside Road (#2) which is tarmac and probably only used by residents, or so it would seem to the bloke in the Range Rover who came flying round a corner to see three cyclists; canny brakes them Range Rovers. 

This road continues in a generally downhill fashion to Rosedale Abbey, which we passed through and began the climb up Knott Road, passing Bell End Farm (cue ghostly tittering from The Pensioner), taking the left turn and climbing up to Hill Cottages, where we faced a dilemma, continue on tarmac directly to the tea room, or climb up onto the old rail track on Rosedale East Side, as per the Rosedale Round and drop down to the cafe en route. After some moments of indecision, The Breadlad’s belly won the day and we set off along our third Daleside Road of the day to introduce The Breadlad to the delights of Dale Head Farm’s self-service approach to catering and some shelter from the permeating drizzle which has been our constant but somewhat unwelcome companion all ride. Caked up and coffeed up, we slithered up the half mile of muddy bridleway to the rail track, which we followed in the tyre tracks of the previous two weeks, around Rosedale Head, testing ourselves on some muddy sections before re-entering the mist for the final mile or so back to Blakey Bank Top, where conditions were pretty much as when we left this morning. Grim.

Mountain Bike Ride

23rd November route

The Breadlad, Howard

Friday. Awoke to the fifth day in a row of rain, another perfect day in paradise but by the time we’d met up in Pinchinthorpe car park, me, Howard and The Breadlad a curious glistening orb crawled it’s way into the sky with all the eagerness of a haemorrhoid sufferer going for a rectal examination. And apart from the occasional few seconds of cloud cover, it stayed up there for the whole ride. We availed ourselves of the less muddy tracks in and around Guisborough Woods, trying to keep some flow going but mainly trailing along in the wake of Howard who has an unfair advantage over the rest of us, cheating by unethical practices such as training, time trialling and duathlons, although we’ve never even seen him with skis or a rifle. It was a grand day, out of four days riding, we managed one reasonable day, defined by not returning home wetter than an otter living in Michael Phelps' trunks. 

Five Days: Six Rides.

Autumn, season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, I don’t know about the mellow fruitfulness, unless you count the sloes for my gin, but we have had more mist than a 1970’s Hammer horror. Some of the rides over the past fortnight have had less visibility than Mr. Magoo (only people of a certain age) buried in a snow drift. 

Mountain Bike Ride

All alone.

12th November 2018 route

Monday. Ironically the first ride of the week was bright and sunny but quite cold, I took my lonely self for a spin around Guisborough Woods, starting along the old rail track, then up the concrete road and back along the top of the woods to Highcliffe Nab. It is fair to say things are getting muddy out there, anything remotely off-piste is no longer the flowing firmness we enjoyed a few weeks ago, now more a skittering bagatelle of sliding tyres and unplanned dismounts. Descending Codhill Heights on the gravel bridleway was better despite a headwind; a steady pedal around the Lonsdale Bowl, then across to Les’s 1, which is now suffering from withdrawal of investment by the Forestry Commission, a couple more tracks and I was back on the fire road, heading for the cafe, slightly damp, slightly muddy (me, not the cafe) but glad to have squeezed another ride in before the man with the scythe comes calling.

Tuesday. Supposed to be a rest day but I ended up riding to Middlesbrough and back on the cross bike while my car had a visit to the sick bay.

Mountain Bike Ride

The Little Woman

14th November 2018 route

Wednesday. Me and The Little Woman (look, she’s not even five foot, what am I supposed to call her? Lofty?) went to Hamsterley for a bit more skill training. Beginning with the amenable Gruffalo Trail, which I believe is classified as a green trail, we continued along the Grove Link (blue) to, yes you’ve guessed it - the Grove. Behind the Grove, we plodded up the steep hill, then the long drag to the start of Accelerator, a red graded trail but without any steep drops or rock gardens for my trainee to contend with. We did Accelerator twice, The Little Woman was taken unawares by the amount of speed which can be generated on a seemingly flat trail, some inappropriate language may have been heard by the squirrels and deer. She sessioned (just like the young people) the little drop at the start of Nitrous, the trail after Accelerator, after some hesitation, she managed whole of the initial rocky section, an area where more than one, fully-suspended, weekend-warrior has came to grief, so a good effort for someone on a hardtail with V brakes who has barely ridden off road before. Reversing the Grove Link, we began the zig-zag climb up to the start of the Skills Loop, she declined to have a go on the see-saw near the start of the climb, close to the top we startled a pair of roe deer which bounded away into the forest, camouflaged out of view within seconds. The Skills Loop proved a bit trying in parts but she enjoyed the flowing finish more than the steep, rocky bits and came away with more confidence in her abilities. 

Mountain Bike Ride

The Youth, Rod.

15th November 2018 route

Thursday. Managed to scrape together a little crew and arranged to meet at The Lion Inn on Blakey Ridge. In a similarly disappointing fashion to last week, The Lion Inn was barely visible through a thick shrouding of mist, in fact, we almost drove past the car park, visibility was so poor. A mile lower down the countryside languished in bright sunshine and five degrees more warmth, a fact not lost on us as we shivered in the car park, wishing we’d brought more clothes. Rather quicker than usual, we were on the bikes and away down the road, riding on the grass verge because we didn’t have a light between us until we reached the first bridleway of our route which we plunged into gratefully, glad to be off the road and the weather-induced myopia of the drivers. Some pleasant, technical riding took us across the head of Rosedale to the Knott Road, which we crossed straight to the next bridleway, which begins beside Fat Betty, not the old dinner lady from my school but the remains of a moorland cross. Slightly longer than the first bridleway but with more downhill, dropping below the mist as we reached the road, after a longing look at the sunshine, illuminating Castleton, down in the valley below, we turned back toward the mist and rode up the road, into a brutal headwind, the two more mature gentlemen leaving the supposedly fit Youth somewhere behind. At the Westerdale turn off we gained a bit of respite from the wind and a bit of welcome downhill, even if it was on tarmac. Leaving the road, we made our way down into the valley, picking up the B.O.A.T. passing beneath Esklets Crag on a wide downhill track before the, frankly, grievous, climb up to the old railway track which runs between Bloworth Crossing and Blakey Bank top. 

We followed the rail track back to Blakey Bank top, crossed straight over the road and plunged downhill to the unique cafe at Dale Head Farm. This cafe is self-service in the winter months, self-service extending to making your own drinks, choosing your own cakes and leaving the money in an honesty box. It’s a fantastic set up, a wooden hut with tables, chairs, sofas and a badly out of tune piano. Outside is a tea garden with views down Rosedale and up to Blakey Ridge, in one corner of the cafe is bike repair section, with tools and spare parts for on the spot bike repairs, stocked with lubes, inner tubes, gear cables and loads of other stuff. 

We lingered far longer than we ought to have and the half mile bridleway, uphill to Rosedale East side proved somewhat trying, slippy with mud and steep. Luckily it is brief and we were soon on Rosedale East side, pedalling the old rail track which is part of the Rosedale Round. It’s a steady grind back to Blakey with a few boggy sections to keep us alert and for the last mile or so we were headed back into the wind but at least the mist had risen a bit, we could actually see The Lion Inn from the car park, which was an improvement on four hours ago.

Mountain Bike Ride

The Breadlad.

16th November 2018 route

Friday. The Breadlad, freshly returned from his latest globetrotting adventure, standing in theme park queues alongside huge Americans, who probably thought he was Benjamin Button or some kind of Caucasian/pygmy genetic experiment. We met at Lordstones, where, if anything, the mist was thicker than yesterday, probably not the best day to try and find a track we had only seen on a photograph, which is not marked on the OS map, the location of which we’d been directed to in the vaguest of terms and a glance at Google Earth, which confirmed we were looking for an unmarked track, through some heather, off the top of a hill. Duly, we plodded to the summit of said hill and took the first track through the heather, visibility was limited, to say the least and progress was slow while we checked out offshoots from the track, with no certainty we were even heading in the correct direction, the visual reference points we were relying on hidden by the mist. The peaty singletrack suddenly dropped down the hillside and turned into a rock-strewn enduro track, which we rode cautiously, although it did turn out to be easier than it looked, traversing the moor before dropping into some woods, all nicely bermed to keep the flow going. 

We popped out onto a fireroad, muddy from churning vehicle tracks, pleased with ourselves to have found, at least, part of the track. Our trail Guru, Rod, told us there are other sections but it looks like we turned the wrong way on the fireroad, a fifty fifty chance and we got it wrong, this is why I don’t do the Lottery. The fireroad, naturally, was uphill, although only low gears and panting confirmed this as the mist thickened around us, things improved towards the end and we enjoyed a brief downhill through some shale tips. Objective achieved, we could have headed straight back to the cafe but for the fact we’d not even clocked up three miles, albeit in almost an hour of blundering about. Ten minutes later, we were carrying our bikes up the steps to the summit of Cold Moor, only to ride down again seconds later, taking the bridleway down into Garfit Gap, which was wet, muddy and deceptively fast because we had no way of gauging the slope. 

With only minor injuries, we made it back around Cold Moor and followed the track to Beak Hills Farm and then the road to Raisdale Mill. After the cottages, we began the long drag up to Stoney Wickes above the Scugdale valley, then the narrow track of peat, rocks and heather to Brian’s Pond, still and eerie in blanket of grey. Despite not having reached double figures with our mileage, the climbing was beginning to tell on us, my fifth day in a row and The Breadlad’s was either jet lagged or suffering withdrawal symptoms from portions of cake bigger than his head, by mutual agreement the bridleway lured us back to Lordstones. In three hours or so of myopic meandering we had only seen two other human beings - and there was us thinking we were the only ones daft enough to be out in this weather.

Five Days: Four Rides.

Mountain Bike Ride

Sutton Bank

2nd November 2018 route

A grand day to indulge in a spot of skill training, to prepare The Little Woman (non-patronising, she is a woman and she is little) for our future adventures together, an opportunity for her to try a bit of the rough stuff. Sutton Bank seemed like the perfect venue, relatively flat, varied surfaces, a skills loop ideally suited to beginners, the exorbitant car parking fee which deters the other Terra Trailblazers, the only bad point. After being robbed blind by the ticket machine, we crossed the road and took ourselves down the first loop, which is the Sutton Bank trail most like a regular trail centre. A one mile U turn through the woods, half downhill, half gently uphill on a gravelled trail. It's half term and some parents evidently believe Cycles Only signs don't apply to their family. Not what you want to see when you're going as fast as your almost middle aged legs will take you; anyway, no toddlers died in the making of this blog but mam and dad can’t take the credit for it. We followed the road for a while before picking up the blue Fort Trail, heading for the escarpment via a field edge. At the escarpment, we took the singletrack back to Sutton Bank, the track commanding a splendid view across to the Pennines. Pausing at, what they market as “The Finest View In England”, we took in the vista, looking down on Gormire Lake, allegedly bottomless and to our left, the honey gold sandstone of Whitestonecliffe, the only cliff where getting to the start of the climbs is harder than the actual routes. A few spins around the Skills Loop finished our brief but enjoyable ride. Then the café fleeced me of more money, don't they realise I'm a pensioner?

Cyclocross Bike Ride

4th November 2018 route.

Decided today was the day I could go and reap a bit of nature's harvest, I've had my eye on a sloe bush since the summer and now is about the right time to go fruit picking. Took a spin on the cross bike, putting in a few miles before reaching, what I was now thinking of as my sloe bush. It was a relief to see it hadn't been plundered by others with the same idea. Unlike a more rural one I'd been watching near Danby. A litre of gin, half a pound of sugar and we were in the sloe gin business, it ought to be ready in two to three months but can mature for a year or more. Will it last a year? Watch this space.

Mountain Bike Ride.

Rosedale Round (half of.)

5th November 2018 route

You can't say she isn't keen, The Little Woman expressed a desire to see Rosedale and the forecast being promising, we loaded the car up and headed across the moors. Leaving industrial Teesside behind, we also left the good weather behind, the sky became gloomier until we reached Blakey Ridge where we drove into thick cloud, the lights of The Lion Inn looming out of the murk. As we unloaded the car at Blakey Bank top, it became apparent we were possibly a tad underdressed for the conditions, extra clothing was donned before we set off into the gloom, heading south east, into the wind, along the old railway track. Without the scenery, it is just a dull gravel track, slightly uphill and into the wind, we had a quick break for a glance at the Sheriff Pit airshaft through its sturdy fence, before continuing to the old kilns at Bank Top. 

It was a little early for lunch, so a detour to Ana Cross seemed in order, where I could show The Little Woman, in the style of Jim Bowen from Bullseye, the downhill track we could have been on if we’d been doing the whole route. After a brief stop at the cross, not the original medieval version, which is in the church at nearby Lastingham but a copy erected in 1949, we returned to the road for a peruse of the ROC post at the top of Chimney Bank. This is one of dozens of underground bunkers members the Royal Observer Corps and Home Office scientific advisors would have went to observe the rest of the population dying of radiation poisoning when the cold war became the nuclear winter. The hatch has been welded shut, probably since the time The Ginger One attempted to break in search of food rations, the fact the bunker was decommissioned in 1968 did not deter him; you can take the boy out of Darlington etcetera. The descent of Chimney Bank, the steepest road bank in England, proved a little traumatic for one of us but we made it to the Abbey Tearoom with all limbs intact. After some calorie replenishment, we began the long climb up to the old rail track on Rosedale East Side, The Little Woman did not seem to find Bell End Farm as amusing as The Pensioner always did, there was no giggling as she rode past.

Gaining the rail track, we had the wind behind us for a few miles, which instantly made the cloudy day feel better, we inspected more relics of past industry, old kilns and derelict buildings on our way to Rosedale Head. Because of boggy ground, the trail diverts away from the old rail bed and follows singletrack for half a mile or so, with a few boggy or rocky sections to negotiate. While pushing around a large puddle, The Little Woman found out why I’d chose to ride through the puddle, not so much finding out the hard way as finding out soft way, as she sank to mid-calf in iron-rich orange mud. Some most unladylike language ensued, bringing back more memories of The Pensioner, particularly the day he once managed to fall full length into the same bog. We regained the gravel of the old rail track about the same time as we regained the headwind, plodding back to a foggy Blakey Junction.   

Mountain Bike Ride

Kildale

6th November route

The next day turned out to be similar but worse weatherwise, riding from Kildale over to Baysdale, via Three Sting Hill and The Field Of Heavy Gravity, I made my way to Baysdale Moor heading for Armouth Wath. I rode up into the mist, which became thicker and colder the higher I went, visibility was down to a few feet, plodding gradually upwards, keeping my eyes open and wits about me for the right turn which continues to Armouth Wath, it seemed a long time coming, a right turn appeared but I knew the one I wanted came on a descent, ignoring it I carried on until the correct turn emerged. I followed the track, still climbing gently, expecting at any moment to begin the descent to Armouth Wath, somewhere ahead, the whole valley below me invisible through the damp, grey cocoon surrounding me, the track continued, the descent failed to materialise, no landmarks were visible, nasty doubts began to creep in, “Are you sure it was the proper turn?” “Where am I exactly?” “Where could I be heading?” In my mind I could already hear the voiceover of the dramatic TV reconstruction, “It’s not known why he chose this path but...” The interview with the mountain rescue team, “Only a fool would have been out in those conditions. His survival instincts must have kicked when he ate his own leg. Even though there was a gel in his bag.” Note to future rescuers: I would rather eat my own leg than die sucking on a plastic tube of sweetened donkey semen. I was planning the last words, selfie video, “Bury me with my bike” when the track began to descend, gently at first, then steep and loose down into Armouth Wath, cautiously over the bridge at the bottom, this is no place to break anything, physical or mechanical and I was climbing again on The Flagged Road, which paradoxically is not flagged at all, onward ever upward, up the Old Coal Road to Burton Howe and daylight, albeit a tenebrous post-apocalyptic version of daylight from a Hollywood imagining of a dystopian future. But all downhill from here, more or less, so I was happy in the pre-apocalyptic present, haring down the Cleveland Way, into the light, propelled by an affable tailwind all the way to Glebe Cottage.   

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

October 2018 Video and Round Up

October 2018 Video and Round Up

Video on the new Terra Trailblazers You Tube channel click here and don't forget to subscribe so you never miss another episode of old blokes riding slowly around the moors on mountain bikes; scenery is nice though.

Quite a good month, October and plenty of rides done, albeit short rides, mainly because an injured medial collateral knee ligament forced a few unwanted rest days on me. After several months of dry weather, October threw in a bit of rain to keep us on our toes. Early in the month, a freshly wetted forty five degree slope and a lack of circumspection put my flexibility to the test with an attempt at doing the splits which left me limping for the next three weeks.

This year’s Lakeland Monster Miles had to be cancelled owing to the Storm Callum, we’d rented a cottage for a week anyway, so, in true British fashion, we made the most of it and it turned out to be a good week. I even sullied myself by going walking a few times. Luckily there was plenty of Jennings Bitter on hand to erase the memories of my defilement.

Back on home turf, sun and showers about sums it up, although we had a present from Ullr, the Norse god of snow, who left us a sprinkling of the white stuff around the moors. We squeezed lots of, mainly short, rides in the latter half of the month, averaging three or four a week, digging out the mudguards and waterproofs as the arid tracks of summer become sloppier and stickier.

Most of these rides went unblogged, I just didn’t find the time to write them up - how did I ever have a job too? And let’s be honest, if nobody can be bothered to fall off or crash, there’s not that much to write about, so, come on you Terra Trailblazers, do your duty. Here are the unblogged routes.

22nd October route Great Ayton with The Breadlad and Oz

25th October route Kildale with The Fireman

26th October route Lordstones with The Youth

29th October (whoops, forgot to save to Garmin) Danby with The Breadlad 

30th October route Gribdale with The Breadlad

31st October route Swainby with The Youth