Stormy Monday Blues followed by Stormy Tuesday Blues which lingered into Stormy Week Blues as Storm Gareth gave the country a gusty few days, winds of 75 mph in places. As Gareth blew himself out, Hannah blew in with rain, wind and snow, just to finish the week off. Being special sorts of idiots, we still managed three rides out this week, although we conceded to the weather by staying in the shelter of trees whenever and wherever we could. Whole plantations of conifers swaying about like fields of corn were probably not the wisest places to be but we all lived to ride another day.
Monday 11th March route
Oz
A pleasantly sunny but windy morning saw me and Oz at Pinchinthorpe car park, ready for some Guisborough Woods exploration. We had a nice easy start, along the disused railtrack with a tailwind helping us along. All good things must come to an end and our good thing ended at the infamous concrete road, which climbs up steeply to the eastern edge of Guisborough Woods. The top of the road was gained with a modicum of puffing and panting, after getting our respective breaths back, we continued on muddy off road tracks, gaining more height, until we could withdraw our deposits from the gravity bank and lose the height in a much more enjoyable fashion than we’d gained it. Apart from the buffeting wind, the weather was springlike, with blue sky and a clear view across the North Sea, well beyond Hartlepool we could just make out what was probably Seaham or maybe Sunderland.
In the shelter of the trees, most of the tracks were surprisingly dry, we continued in and out of the plantations with a vague plan to find a trail called Snakebite, which leads down to the Blue Lake. Only having a rough idea of where it starts didn’t help, a left turn off the main fireroad beneath the Hanging Stone, the problem being there are three left turns, we chose the middle one, or as we now know it, the wrong one, and found ourselves on a network of muddy paths, which although fun to ride, did not have the jumps, berms and other trail features us gnarly, rad dudes have come to expect. I have been riding in Guisborough Woods for over twenty years now and somehow never managed to point my tyres down any of the tracks in this little section of the forest, judging by the amount of tyre tracks in the mud, everyone else has. After a bit more slopping about, the search for Snakebite was abandoned in search of coffee and soon after we were sitting in the Branch Walkway Cafe, surrounded by pensioners and dogs, as we reflected on an enjoyable few hours riding.
Wednesday 13th March route
The Breadlad.
Guisborough Woods, trees bending in the wind, the search for Snakebite, deja vu, another day of coniferous windbreaks and potential death by falling tree. Owing to The Breadlad’s antipathy to parking charges, our ride began from a muddy verge on the outskirts of Hutton Village, greatly increasing our chances of a windborne branch through the windscreen but with an extra three quid towards the repairs. Plodding upwards on fire roads, the search for Snakebite continued but this time we found it pretty much straight away and it was a nice little trail, too muddy to be fun today but another one in the “will be good in the summer” file. After climbing up from the Blue Lake to The Unsuitables, another trail was explored and put on the dry days list, before we ventured out onto open moorland, braving the wind along Percy Cross Rigg and down to Sleddale. Unfortunately, the wind was slightly in the wrong direction to assist us on the ascent of Codhill Heights, as the track levels out, approaching the Highcliffe side of Guisborough Woods, the full force of the wind hit us. It was harder riding on the flat than it was riding up the hill.
The sanctuary of the forest reached, we continued, choosing what we imagined would be the least muddy tracks for some glee in the trees, weaving between the swaying trunks, skidding on wet roots as we carved through a brown mattress of pine needles. Things continued in this vein until the siren call of the Branch Walkway Cafe lured us in for the second time this week, where we replenished caffeine and calories before riding back to Hutton Village, thankfully finding our cars free from arboreal molestation.
Mountain Bike Ride.
Thursday 14th March route
The Breadlad, The Youth.
Sheepwash car park, listening to Popmaster, the car swaying in the wind as Storm Gareth continues blow drying the country, Ken Bruce asking the questions while I answered some of them, obviously anything after 1990 being too modern for me and ancient history for The Youth. We ought to have been throwing legs over crossbars and pedalling but we were waiting for The Breadlad, whose concept of time owes more to Einstein’s theory of elasticity than GMT. He arrived, barely even late by Breadlad standards and we were soon panting uphill through pitching conifers, definitely the theme of this week’s riding, up to High Lane and onward to Square Corner, buffeted by a vicious sidewind. We reached the relative shelter of Silton Woods, large chunks have been felled but luckily the downhill track is still there, in fact, it has been improved with a few extra jumps.
We spent a pleasant hour or so, sessioning sections and watching The Youth finding his air time mojo, The Breadlad found his falling down the hill mojo when his front wheel slipped while descending a rock garden, it wasn’t all bad news - I did manage to film and photograph it. Leaving the downhill track behind, we continued down to Over Silton and went back into the woods in search of vaguely remembered tracks around the Hanging Stone area, overlooking Thimbleby.
The fire road uphill was a muddy disaster, mainly thanks to our equine brethren, we made it to the top using a combination of pushing and swearing only to find the trails are no more, buried beneath the detritus of tree felling or wrecked by water-filled ruts left by the machinery used to harvest the plantation. Our options were limited to continuing upward on another track which was more like Shrek’s swamp than the singletrack I remembered or bursting into tears and calling out the mountain rescue helicopter. Realising there would be nowhere for a helicopter to land, we manned up and made our way back to firmer fire roads and out of the forest. The section between Square Corner and High Lane, was, naturally, into a headwind, battering us as we headed back towards Cod Beck, we finished through the woods on Rod’s track, then rode the dog poo bag slalom along the shore of the reservoir back to Sheepwash.
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