More Drag Than The Transvestite Club Christmas Party.

Things seem to be settling down nicely into a four rides a week routine at the moment but I’m sure the winter weather could throw a snowball in the works.

Mountain Bike Ride.

Howard

21st January 2018 route

Day one: a chilly Monday morning. I met Howard at the unfeasibly early time of ten o'clock for a venture out from Sheepwash. Following the old loops around Sheepwash routine, we made our way through the dog walkers along the side of the reservoir and up through the woods to High Lane, Howard's dedication to fitness and training giving him an unfair advantage over my dedication to beer and curry. From High Lane an interesting, rooty descent took us through the trees to pass the campsite and former youth hostel at Cote Ghyll. We climbed up the bank from the campsite, crossed the road and kept on climbing, all the way to the antennas on Scarth Wood Moor where I was able to introduce Howard to a track through Arncliffe Wood, which, as luck would have it, was in superb condition, a perfect bed of springy pine needles between the conifers, relatively warm and dry in the shelter of the trees. Reluctantly leaving the woods, we continued down the moor on a roughly paved track to the road. After a very brief bit of tarmac, we went through the gate into Clain Woods and down the steps, always fun, continuing along the bottom track, following the Cleveland Way to Scugdale, crossing the road at Huthwaite Green, then more climbing up to Faceby Plantation, some nice singletrack and a field crossing eventually brought us out in the hamlet of Faceby. 

The track between High Farm and Whorlton House turned out to be muddier than we would have liked and it was hard work until we reached the road to at Whorlton. Howard had never visited Whorlton Castle, so we stopped for a look around the remains before riding through Swainby and reversing the Clain Woods steps, which are never as much fun on the way back up. Howard made a name for himself by riding up the steps  - the sort of name that can’t be repeated in polite company. A last push took us to the top of Scarth Wood Moor from the other direction, ready to descend Olly’s Folly, an enjoyable conglomeration of rocks, mud and slippy grass, which deposited us mud-splattered but grinning like baboons, back at the car park. 

Mountain Bike Ride.

La Mujerita

22nd January 2018 route

Having reconnoitered the area yesterday, a less arduous modification was called for to avoid demoralising my latest trainee. Mud plugging is no fun at the best of times but for a beginner it must be akin to purgatory. We began from Swainby, picked up the Cleveland Way to Faceby (again), missed out the muddy fields by taking the Gold Hill Loop road back to Swainby.

 A bit too early for the cafe, we had a quick detour to the castle (again), after a bit of an old explore, we went to the churchyard opposite for a look around. Normally bypassed buy us at speed coming down the road from Whorlton, it was good to have a poke about amongst the old gravestones. 

The oldest we could read was from 1747 but on a lot of the stones the inscriptions were eroded away, the church itself dates from the 13th century and like the castle has a number of local curiosities, as anyone interested enough to do a bit of research can find, Harry Mead’s second North Yorkshire book, A Prospect Of The North York Moors has an informative few paragraphs. Particularly former castle resident, the heiress  Lucia De Thweng, who appears to have been the sort of gal whose fondness for copious sexual relationships would have got her talked about at the bingo. Nothing wrong with being friendly. Curiosity sated, we made our way back to the Rusty Bike for coffee and cake in the sunshine.

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Youth

24th January 2018 route.

Another chilly start, with a car to defrost before the journey to Hamsterley and The Youth’s introduction to the trail known as The Pensioner, conceived by Hamsterley legend, Bobby Boyd and built by himself with help from Young Briggs (son of The Pensioner) and others. The riding is pleasant, no steep drops to contend with but we could almost hear a ghostly voice bemoaning the lack of light in the trees. “If you had eyes like mine, you wouldn’t even get out of bed on a morning.” Just like young people, we sessioned a few bits for the camera before emerging into the sunlight like Chilean miners. 

Another bit of off-piste followed, not sure of the name, before we took Special K and Brain Freeze to the valley bottom. The odd patch of ice here and there keeping us alert. A quick Midget Gem break (Tesco E.P.O. at 29p a bag) behind The Grove gave us the energy for the long drag past Transmission to Polties and K Line, the latter white with frost but not too slippy, although I still chose to employ a modicum of middle-aged caution. The Youth was rather less circumspect but I didn’t have to attempt a bunny hop over his broken and lifeless body further down the track, so the lower tyre pressures he was running must have made a difference. The Holy Trinity of the Triple Tranny concluded our riding in fine style, always a pleasure, Transmission, Accelerator and Nitrous, what a way to descend a hillside, although a patch of ice on Nitrous gave me a heart stopping moment, washing the front wheel out in a rock garden, visions of A&E waiting rooms, sympathetic but bemused nurses and weeks on the settee flashed through my mind before traction was regained. 

Mountain Bike Ride.

Alonio

25th January 2018 route

In one of those curious quirks of British weather, after a week of temperatures hovering around zero, today the mercury reached double figures. Obviously not high enough to tempt anyone else from their centrally heated boudoirs and out onto the trails, so it was a lone cyclist who slogged up the hill from Pinchinthorpe Visitor Centre. And slogged was the right word, the firm tracks we’ve enjoyed all week are thawed to mud today, more drag than the transvestite club christmas party. In a change from the usual start, I rode up to Bousdale Farm and through the fields to rejoin the normal track near the edge of Guisborough Woods, saving half a mile in distance but probably doubling the time. From Roseberry Common, I circumnavigated the mighty Roseberry Topping, dropping down on slippery track to Newton Wood, a little exploration in the woods followed but it was mostly mud and wet roots with a disappointing amount of uphillness. For a break from slipping and sliding, road took me to Gribdale, where I had a midget gem break and watched two cyclists struggling their bikes up the steps onto Great Ayton Moor instead of the usual and more amenable angled bridleway. Taking the bridleway until it became too slippery to ride, I dismounted and began to push the bike upward, realising my big mistake, The Evil Yellow Mud Of North Yorkshire ambushed me, the bike became heavier as the mud clung on, thickening and thickening until the wheels would no longer turn, the bike was so heavy lifting was a struggle especially as the mud had also built up on my 5:10’s, turning them into gooey platform shoes. Six inches taller than when I had started, I battled up the hill, one step forward two steps back, looking like a mud covered Gary Glitter, albeit without the sequins and predilection for under-age sex. 

Eventually, I reached a grassy area where I was able to shed some of the mud and begin to ride again. Quiet knackered from the skirmish with The Evil Yellow Mud Of North Yorkshire, I made my way back to Guisborough Woods, riding down Little Roseberry with as much control and style as a greased pig sliding down a bobsleigh track. Realising things were not going to improve any time soon, I gave up my battle with The Evil Yellow Mud Of North Yorkshire and took fire roads all the way back to the cafe. 

  

Another Quality Quartet.

Another Quality Quartet.

A quartet of quasi-quotidian bike rides (that’ll have The Breadlad’s dictionary corner working overtime) and it was a funny old week, mostly dry but cold and windy, except for a blast of snow on Thursday. We remained unscathed by the latest government defeat on no-deal Brexit, whatever that is, it seems to be mainly some politicians terrified their particular gravy train is about to hit the buffers and blasting the public with ominous media predictions of empty shelves and the sort of gridlock usually engendered by a centimetre of snow. I don’t know why they are bothering with the scaremongering - it’s not as though we have a say in the matter anymore. Like us, the rocks and heather remain unperturbed, the trails only felt the impact of tyres and the occasional falling Trailblazer and the sheep wander the moors without a care what the cunning, conniving, paper-shuffling, desk-jockeys of Westminster were up to. 

Mountain Bike Ride.

14th January route

The Ginger One.

Kildale Station Car Park, perpetually muddy, even in summer, we are beginning to suspect it may have more to do with the toilet block than weather conditions. Which makes you think twice about where you put your feet. The Ginger One decided Guisborough Woods is now boring and would prefer if we rode elsewhere.  As someone who’s favourite viewing is snooker, cricket and darts, he will have a better understanding of boring than the rest of us, so the rest of us deferred to his superior knowledge - rest of us! Me, in other words. 

We decided to do the route him and Oz tried to ride last week but found themselves, for want of a better word - misplaced. Hence, five minutes later we were panting up Three Sting Hill to Warren Farm, then after an all too brief downhill respite, we continued up The Field Of Heavy Gravity before crossing Kildale Moor to Baysdale. More climbing continued, out of Baysdale to Great Hograh Head and onward to Armouth Wath. One simple sentence belies the reality; a continual upward slog on broad, sandy tracks, up and across on open moor, vulnerable to any bit of wind, somewhere in the waste land between arduous and tedious. Eventually the drop down to remote Armouth Wath appears, seconds later, we have passed the ruins of the ruins and are climbing again, up the Old Coal Road to Burton Howe. It seems to get longer every time we ride it and there are few better feelings than seeing that tumulus come into view. Time for a time out, our years as process operators have taught us to be economical with our exertions. 

We sat on the tumulus, where perhaps Bronze Age men once rested, one of us eating getting through the last of a beautiful, moist, fruit filled, homemade Christmas cake, Mr. Frugality chomping a bar from one of the more downmarket stores he frequents which actually looks like the stomach contents of a recently disinterred Bronze Age corpse, wizened and tanned to leathery stiffness by the acidic peat of North Yorkshire. Satiated, our route carried on along the Cleveland Way to Tidy Brown Hill, which we descended on the gravel doubletrack before slightly moist singletrack took us across to the technical descent of Turkey Nab or Ingleby Bank to give it its proper name. This is becoming severely eroded now now thanks to the actions of our "One Life: Live It. (So long as you can afford the diesel)" brethren but it makes it more fun to ride down. From Bank Foot Farm, you’ve guessed it, at the foot of the bank, a few miles of tarmac took us back to the delights of Glebe Cottage.

Mountain Bike Ride.

15th January route

La Mujerita.

The following day, me and La Mujerita had a little spin around from Lordstones, heading out on the bridleway to Cringle Moor, which, fortunately, or unfortunately  depending on your point of view, turns off a long way from the summit and heads into Cringle Moor Plantation, dropping through the trees on a brief but very pleasant bit of track. Working on the theory if you’re not falling off, you’re not trying hard enough, La Mujerita must have been trying very hard because she managed to fall off and loosen the back wheel of her bike from the drop outs. If she keeps this up she’ll be like a proper Terra Trailblazer. More amenable fire road riding took us to the Beak Hills track and we slithered our way through mud and puddles to the Beak Hills Farm, luckily all downward. Continuing on tarmac, we joined the Raisdale Road, where another old saying came into play - what goes down must go up and we had a couple of miles of uphill road between us and the cafe. But the sun was shining, the wind was light, the road went easily and before too long we were tucking into a nice lunch.

Mountain Bike Ride.

17th January route

The Breadlad. The Youth.

Forty eight hours and a dozen miles from the last ride, the world had turned round twice and deposited us in Antarctica, the forecast sunny day with light winds suddenly ditched in favour of ice, howling wind and the odd blizzard. There was never any question of not getting on the bikes, it was only a question of how long would we stay on them, although, as none of the, ahem, ‘less hardy’ members had joined us - no surprises there - we were able to enjoy a whine-free ride. We rode to Clitherbecks Farm, where the wind became a tail wind and the snow shower eased off as we rode across the moor, continuing up to Danby Beacon, where, for what must be the only time in living memory we didn’t stop, instead carrying on to our original objective - the Roxby Moor singletrack. 

The weather closed in again, an ominous wall grey cloud replete with snow, smothered the moor, dropping fat, white flakes on us  while we carved fresh tyre tracks into the virgin whiteness of the trail, only the dark heather differentiating the ground from the sky. We reached The Slagbag, crossing the beck and heading upward, passing a lone farmer driving his tractor, oblivious to the weather. As we turned to head back towards Danby, the full force of the weather hit us, hail and snow sandblasting our faces to numbness, we had no alternative but to put our heads down and pedal. The Oakley Walls road, little travelled at the best of times, became a sheet of white, snow-covered sheep idly watched us as we ground our way past, no doubt snug and smug beneath their lanolin enriched winter wool. Gradually, little patches of blue began to appear in the sky, the snow blew off to whiten somewhere else and we were left with a perfect winter day and incipient snow blindness. We squeezed in a last bit of off road with the rocky track dropping down Oakley Walls, The Youth setting off down the snow covered rocks at the sort of pace deemed unwise by us more mature gentlemen. A little more road riding and we were in The Stonehouse Bakery where one of the ladies kindly expressed some concerns about our mental health.

Mountain Bike Ride.

18th January route

The Breadlad. Howard

After a cold night following yesterday’s snow we could have almost attained  the Holy Grail of winter riding - frozen trails, not icy enough to be slippery but cold enough to firm up the winter mud. And for the most part it happened, a winter’s ride with only one wet foot between three of us was not bad. Me, The Breadlad and Howard convened in a chilly Lordstone’s car park, setting off on the same start as Tuesday but without any bike wheels falling out. At the Beak Hills turn we continued straight ahead, along The Fronts, to Clay Bank, taking advantage of conditions to pedal along a track which is usually verging on unrideable this time of year, Howard’s first time along here since a chunk of trees went missing, superb views across to Park Nab and Kildale. 

The forecast for 3 mph wind proved about as accurate as  a darts match between Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles and it was blowing a hoolie when we reached the top of the Carr Ridge steps. Riding the frozen Rim the wind was against us but the limitless innuendos and double entendres engendered by that simple three letter word kept us warm. It was decided to descend via East Bank Plantation since vital work took all the fun out of Medd Crag. We all agreed the boggy bit in the middle of East Bank Plantation would be firm today, we couldn’t have been more wrong if we’d said golf was an interesting sport - or even a sport come to that. Hence, the one wet foot, as my guileless blunderings showed the other two where not to go. An ascent of the Beak Hills track came next, followed by a last blast along the frozen Fronts, one of those rare days when it all comes together, three happy cyclists rolled up to the cafe, all agreed on what a grand ride it had been.

Unprepossessing

Unprepossessing: creating an unfavourable or neutral first impression. Definitely the word of the week for this week, every morning, wake up, excited to be able to squeeze in a riding day, leap out of bed, okay, shuffle out of bed, open the curtains to be greeted by the  dystopian greyness of a nuclear winter. Those type of days where dusk prevails and smothers enthusiasm, throw in a smidgen of that awful, pervasive drizzle and the siren call of the crumpled and cozy bed is hard to resist; the ultimate irony being the days I was unable to get out on the bike (circumstances beyond my control, as the saying goes) were marvellous. 

Mountain Bike Ride

9th January route

Oz

Met Oz in Great Ayton, arriving in, what can only be described as a cloudburst, watching water sheeting down the windscreen and contemplating the veracity of The Breadlad’s man-flu. By the time we were ready to ride, the rain had given up and the scenery reverted to monochrome, except for a pair of brightly water-proofed cyclists pedalling the country lanes towards Fletcher’s Farm. Onward and upward, through Aireyholme Farm to Roseberry Common and into Guisborough Woods to introduce Oz to a couple of recently discovered tracks. Wet roots, mud and rider incompetence meant Strava KOM’s were saved for another day as we slithered down the trails, occasionally tumbling off our bikes to give the trailside flora and fauna a closer inspection.  Returning to the relative safety of fire roads for a while, we pedalled beyond Highcliffe Nab before an open singletrack took us back into the woods for a more amenable track which we managed to ride with only tyres touching the floor. We continued to Codhill Heights, where we stopped to chat to a couple of fellow cyclists, who were also not letting the monotonous weather defeat them. The descent of Codhill Heights is always fun, whatever the conditions and it was not long before we had traversed the tarmac of Percy Cross Rigg and were cruising around the Lonsdale Bowl in a slight drizzle. Fingerbender Bank was negotiated without any fingers being bent, followed by Andy’s Track, steep and wet but rideable now the man-eating bracken has died down for winter. Gribdale car park was virtually empty for a change, we followed the road down to Dikes Lane, then the rough track back to Fletcher’s Farm, where coffee and food were consumed eagerly as  another heavy shower passed through. The rain had moved on to wet somewhere else by the time we left the cafe, we rode back to Great Ayton, trying to fool ourselves that the grey was slightly brighter, gone from gunmetal to merely ashen. Never even took a photo let alone get any footage for January’s video.

Mountain Bike Ride

10th January route

The Youth.

The next day, draw back curtains etcetera etcetera, forecast says it is going to stop by mid-morning, ditto yesterday. Oh well, waterproofs on, bike on car, pick up The Youth and drive through the drizzle to Lordstones, which is in the clouds today, along with the top of every other moor in the area. We plodded up the track toward the old gliding club, long gone now, although it was popular when I were a lad, the gliders launched by a tractor which hauled them along the runway until they took off. Even the buildings have gone, demolished a few years ago. We had a pretty standard ride, past Brian’s Pond and continuing to Barker’s Ridge, the usual view down the Scugdale Valley blocked by a leaden curtain, we rode onward, stopping only for gates, it wasn’t the sort of day to savour, Cock Howe came and went, then the clouds blew away and we could see our surroundings, some small pockets of cloud billowing about below us. It hadn’t gone to the excesses of blue sky and winter sunshine but things were improving. 

At Bilsdale mast we took a breather and polished off the last of the Christmas cake before the mile and a half of rough tarmac to the B1257 was despatched with a lot more speed than when we ride it in the unfriendly gravity direction. A bit of poor route planning meant we had a few more miles of tarmac to get through before we regained any proper riding. We pedalled through Cringle Moor Plantation, aiming for the bridleway from Cringle Moor to Lordstones when we were accosted by a lone walker, who turned out to be one of those time-rich, feckless shift-workers, idling the hours away by wandering about the moors, Chairman Whelan of the erstwhile Cafe Racers was easily tempted away from his ramble by a warm cafe and hot coffee. Shortly afterwards we were indoors, recounting tales of our various adventures and discussing the ineptitude of mutual acquaintances from the chemical industry universe. 

The Start Of Another Year.

Mountain Bike Ride

The Youth, The Nissan Nomads: Ian, Keith, Charlie, Gary, Ryan.

4th January route.

The second ride of the year turned out to be the same as the first ride of the year, which was yesterday, because I checked out the route in advance so our buddies from the Northern land of Nissania could avoid as much mud as possible in another introduction to Guisborough Woods and the surrounding area. Only The Youth was available/could be arsed/could tear himself work* (*delete as appropriate) but we were joined by a fearless five who had managed to escape the production line for a day on the moors. Seven riders, it’s a long time since we could muster that much enthusiasm from the Terra Trailblazers. After happy new years and introductions, we left the car park and pedalled past Pinchinthorpe Visitor Centre, through swarms of kids and dogs, I think today is the last day of the school holidays, which means everything will be back to normal next week. Call me a grinch if you want but the sooner the better for me, all that christmas crap back in the loft where it belongs. 

The unavoidable hardship of Guisborough Woods is the start, to get to the good stuff, it is climb after climb, as Cyndi Lauper might have sang if she’d ever been cycling in North Yorkshire - once she’d got her breath back, mainly fire road, meandering upward through the forest for a couple of miles, after which, our route took us past the bottom of the SOW track and up onto Roseberry Common. One last push (literally) and we made it onto Newton Moor and things levelled out somewhat. Roseberry Topping looked as though there was someone on top giving out free ice cream, a steady procession of people trudging up the zig zags despite the grey weather, standing on the summit ‘plateau’ like penguins on a shrinking ice floe. We headed in the opposite direction and soon arrived at one of Guisborough’s other attractions, The Unsuitables, luckily at the top, our Geordie accented peloton continued up and down Percy Cross Rigg, away from the fire roads and onto rocks and mud, not the sloppy, wheel-sucking, soul-destroying goo we’re used to at this time of year but nicely firm mud. Bonus. The downhill gave the younger ones a chance to get their bikes in the air, obviously saving rubber by using every available kicker. A quick regroup at the gate before heading around the Lonsdale Bowl to Fingerbender Bank, so called after one of The Pensioner’s unfortunate accidents, this proved to be the highlight of the ride so far, the Nissanians coming back through the wardrobe and enjoying the technical challenge of ruts, drop offs and loose rocks. A short bit of flat riding took us to Andy’s Track, which was named to annoy The Pensioner because he claimed, frequently, vehemently and with maximum profanity, to have discovered it. It is a steep drop down the hillside above Gribdale Gate, only accessible when the bracken is down, during summer it is impossible but today it was a grand bit of fun. 

Captain Cook’s Monument was our next objective and in the spirit of our mutual acquaintances, the Sierra Cycling guides, just a ten minute climb, to those guys, every climb is ten minutes, whether it’s half an hour, four hours, just ten minutes. There were some valiant attempts but nobody reached the monument without resorting to pedestrianism, the short flight of steps round the war memorial being the usual nemesis. We had a breather and took in the view, such as it was, some vague hilly shapes barely seen through a grey haze but it was dry and not even too cold - we’ve had worse starts to a year. A steep track took us down the south west flank of Easby Moor, where we encountered our first dose of North Yorkshire mud, on the bridleway between Mill Bank Woods and Easby Wood, luckily it is a brief section and we were soon poised above local test-piece the Red Run, which seems to be getting steeper. There were a couple of non-runners (me amongst them) but everyone else gave it a go. 

Fun over for a while, we climbed back up to Roseberry Common via Great Ayton’s answer to Lesbos, Dikes Lane and then through the farmyard at Hairy Arse Farm, going back into Guisborough Woods to find some of the less-muddy off-piste tracks. The short climb to the Hanging Stone trail was a test for weary legs but everyone livened up on the rooty trail, The Youth failed to repeat his previous performance on the steps, when he flew down them without his bike like a capeless Superman. Another track followed, downward through the trees but pleasantly so, none of the signature eighty five degree slopes the Guisborough Trail fairies are famous for. ‘One last climb.’ took us to Les’s Three, which was enjoyed by all, particularly when Gary fell into the water filled ditch at the bottom, which I missed because I was bringing up the rear. For one last bit of fun, we finished down the cow field at Hutton Village, giving the youngsters a chance to show their air skills on the grassy drops to the gate. 

After threading our way through the whirling maelstrom of kids and canines around the visitor centre and found some seats in the cafe for a spot of calorie replenishment and made plans for further adventures. We said our goodbyes in the car park and the lads disappeared back through the wardrobe to Nissania, back to the production line, churning out Geordie Japanese jalopies for the masses and dreaming of spending their wages on new mountain bikes.

December 2018 Round Up and Video

December Round Up and Video

Straight to video? - click here

Sunny December (mainly) some days saw temperatures reaching double figures although it didn’t help the tracks, which are suffering from an influx of slop. Me and La Mujerita took ourselves away for a few days without a bike between us. In fact had a whole week off the bike - unheard of. Quite a few rides went unblogged, brief details are below.

Mountain Bike Rides

Square Corner. Route

Howard, The Breadlad.

What's happened to the Square Corner micro climate? Normally half the temperature and twice as windy as the rest of the world, we all remarked on the relative balminess today, no reluctant shedding of thermal jackets or tailgate sheltering while the pre-ride faff went on. And, boom we were off, although  it may not have been quite that dramatic, approaching an ascent of the Mad Mile is never done with enthusiasm. But the sky was blue and it wasn't raining, so even that chore went by without too much hardship. Howard's last ride before he returns to play Florence Nightingale to a shipload of Scottish alcoholics, so he was making the most of it, powering up the hill, leaving us lesser mortals in his wake. We cracked along the Drove Road at a fine pace, soon reaching Dialstone Farm, from where we headed for the Escarpment but not before we had a breather and took in the self proclaimed Finest View In England. The Escarpment was pleasant today, dry and firm, running along the very edge of the Hambleton Hills, we recalled the day The Pensioner managed to ride over the edge only to be saved from premature death by a tree trunk, unaware, we looked back to see an empty track,  rode back to find him crawling back up an almost vertical slope of grass and bracken, sounding like Chubby Brown minus verbs, pronouns, adjectives or prepositions. Okay, one long, continuous stream of expletives. Today was casualty free, even after we stopped for a play in the quarry. We continued past High Paradise Farm, on winter hours, so unfortunately closed. Which left only the drag back along the Drove Road and the sublime pleasure which is the descent of the Mad Mile.

The Ginger One

11th Hamsterley. Route

Canny day round Hamsterley with The Ginger One, finally managed to find The Pensioner trail, I think he would have approved, apart from the light-blocking trees, which would definitely elicit a a few sentences bemoaning lack of vision and how we would not even get out of bad if our eyes were in the same state. Bobby and his little band of trail fairies have done a grand job.

17th December - funeral

I feel I ought to say a few words here about Les Guest, who came out with us occasionally, although he preferred road biking. The organiser of the memorable Way Of The Roses ride back in April 2012, which, just like old time Tour De France races, was fuelled by steak and alcohol, we probably averaged a pint for every five miles ridden and had a grand time doing it. We rode from Morecambe on the west coast to Whitby on the east coast, staying overnight in Settle and York and sampling hostelries across the breadth of England.  Les may have pedalled off to bigger and better cycle tracks but trips like that will always live on in the memories of the participants.

18th Xmas Dinner ride

Wettest day of the month, with a seasoning of wind.  Blogged here.

20th Gribdale Route

Took La Mujerita out for a little scout about from Gribdale over the moors to Highcliffe Nab and back. The weather was reasonable and we managed to stay mud-free for most of the ride, except for the slither down the hill back to the car park.

24th Scaling Dam Route

The Breadlad

Christmas eve and a chance to escape the festive frenzy with a ride on the velocipedes. Parked in the lay by because whoever is in charge of the car park decided nobody could possibly want to leave their cars there on a Christmas eve enforced with a locked barrier. It was another grand day with blue sky and sunshine and we thoroughly enjoyed our little spin. We even got a bit of free entertainment from one of a pair of paramotorists who decided to swoop down and give us a wave after he tried to stand on Danby Beacon, then three Santas on trials bikes turned up. Must be christmas.

27th Great Ayton Route

Santa has been and somehow he managed to drag a shiny bike down the chimney for La Mujerita, two days later it was being off-loaded from the roof rack in a sunny but cool Great  Ayton for its first run. La Mujerita having declined the opportunity to ride round the block on christmas day with all the other kids who got new bikes for chrimbo. We had a gentle road start, following tarmac to Kildale, then hauled ourselves up the Yellow Brick Road from New Row to Percy Cross Rigg, then along to the Unsuitables, where we enjoyed a gravel-surf to the cross roads. We pootled along more fire roads to Roseberry Common and the last hill of the day (she’ll learn) before a mud-splattered descent to Aireyholme Farm, which was followed by more descending, all the back to Great Ayton and a mandatory cafe stop.

28th Pinchinthorpe. Route

The next day I was doing a Billy No Mates in Guisborough Woods, doing a spot of selfy filming. A bit cool in the wind but pleasant in the trees. In the middle of Twixtmas the car park at Pinchinthorpe was rammed when I returned, maybe something to do with the ticket machines not being in use? 

31st Lordstones Route

Rod

Last ride of the year, me and Rod converged in Lordstones car park ready to see the year out. We took a chance on The Fronts not being too muddy and lost - it was dire but we persevered all the way to Clay Bank. The paved steps up Carr Ridge, to Urra Moor came as relief, although the wind was doing it’s best to ruin our day, gaining strength the higher we plodded. The Rim was our next objective and it has to be said, not in bad condition for December, muddy in parts but all rideable. We continued through East Bank Plantation, rather speedier because we did not have a lost Benny The Brawl to search for and up the road to Beak Hills Farm where the stroppy Jack Russell showed no sign of tempering his attitude for the festive season, he barked us all the way up the drive, through the farmyard and continued until we were out of sight. Returning to Lordstones, we joined the nice clean people in the cafe.