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.