It is surprising when you stop to consider I've had fifty nine Aprils in my life so far. Doesn't seem that many, I feel quite young now.
Cross Bike Ride
La Mujerita
Monday 22nd April 2019 route
Leisurely Local Legstretcher
Cross Bike Ride
La Mujerita
Monday 22nd April 2019 route
Leisurely Local Legstretcher
And so it came to pass that Easter Monday, the celebration of Jesus rising from the grave, as he predicted from the cross, when he spake in a commanding voice to his disciples gathered below. Spake, not spoke, perhaps there was a tax on O’s in those days, anyway he spake to them. “Don’t touch my Easter eggs, I’ll be back on Monday.” And when the disciples returned to the cave, someone had rolled away the stone (Mott The Hoople 1974) and though they searched, their Lord and saviour had done one. And when I went to get the bikes out there was no sign of any two thousand year old messiahs in my shed either. This Easter is predicted to be the hottest one since 2011 but not as hot as Easter Saturday in 1949 when the temperature topped 29 degrees centigrade - blame global warming for that one. Me and La Mujerita have planned what she has began to think of as our Big Ride, cycling from the sparkling minarets of the chemical factories in the flatlands of Teesside to the wild and windy moors, staying in a suitably rustic hostelry overnight before riding back the following day. Probably about 35 miles each way, not exactly Big Ride territory but a pleasant way of wasting a couple of days. Bank holidays, sunshine and being free from work means the day people completely lose their shit and swarm to anywhere everyone else is going - safety in numbers or something, filling up the roads and clogging car parks across the land. A bit of environmentally sound pedal power, training for the Big Ride, seemed in order and we were soon turning a shade of pink riding along cycle tracks and minor roads. Sun cream in April? Who would think of that, this isn’t Spain you know. There were plenty of people about as we made our way through Stockton and Ingleby Barwick, some cycling, most strolling about in the sunshine, as is customary, each was greeted with a polite hello or a smile of greeting, which was blanked by about ninety percent of those we passed. Look straight ahead, don’t speak, don’t smile, don’t make eye contact with the madman on the bike. Perhaps they were in a chocolate coma from scoffing so many Easter eggs or something; one of the nicest days of the year and they are walking about as though they are in a Mexican shanty town on Grab A Gringo Day. Leaving the russet tones of the cyclepaths behind, we crossed the road at the Fox Covert and took to country lanes, through Hilton towards the wind turbines, turning off onto the Hutton Rudby road and turning again to follow a minor minor road to the prison at Kirklevington. Continuing down the hill into Yarm and coffee, sitting outside in the sunshine, watching folks enjoying their precious time off by shuffling up and down the High Street, dressed in their best clothes, looking in shop windows.
From Yarm we headed back to Stockton Riverside, stopping off at The Talpore for further refreshment, this time of an alcoholic nature, multitudes concurred and there was no room at the inn for two weary travellers but there is plenty of grass overlooking the white water course, where we could watch canoeists doing their splishy splashy thing. Or could have if the water had been turned on, not a brightly coloured perspex torpedo in sight, hard to understand. One pint of Spain’s finest cerveza later, we were back in the saddle, returning home by a slightly different route. Just short of 30 miles, all quiet gentle, barely any ascent but it’s a bit of training for the Big Ride and it was warm and sunny, so what’s not to like?
From Yarm we headed back to Stockton Riverside, stopping off at The Talpore for further refreshment, this time of an alcoholic nature, multitudes concurred and there was no room at the inn for two weary travellers but there is plenty of grass overlooking the white water course, where we could watch canoeists doing their splishy splashy thing. Or could have if the water had been turned on, not a brightly coloured perspex torpedo in sight, hard to understand. One pint of Spain’s finest cerveza later, we were back in the saddle, returning home by a slightly different route. Just short of 30 miles, all quiet gentle, barely any ascent but it’s a bit of training for the Big Ride and it was warm and sunny, so what’s not to like?
Relive 'Leisurely Local Legstretcher'
Mountain Bike Ride
The Breadlad.
Wednesday 24th April 2019 route.
The Rosedale Round Revised
A bit of a late start today owing to us both having appointments, me with a young lady who has a fascination with x raying my teeth and The Breadlad doing something car related. We met at Bank Top, on Blakey Ridge separating Rosedale from Farndale, The Breadlad’s first ride for a few weeks owing to an unfortunate fork in the eye incident, not the Moe Syzslak special from The Simpsons but a bicycle fork. Anyway, here he was raring to go because this was to be the inaugural voyage of his new bike, losing it’s off-road virginity to the trails of Rosedale.
Our route was the basic Rosedale Round with a slight variation. We began as normal, following the old rail track to Chimney Bank Top, passing the odd reminder of the area’s industrial heritage on the virtually flat track. The good weather from the start of the week is cooling off but it remains sunny although the wind is cold enough to remind us it’s still April.
After crossing the road, our next objective was Ana Cross in the near distance, from where it is downhill all the way to Lastingham on a mixture of hard-packed mud and gravel. A great start to any route, miles and miles of downhill but all good things and all that meant we were soon climbing, gradually on the singletrack, past High Askew Farm (ghostly titter from The Pensioner), above the River Seven towards Rosedale Abbey, cautiously through Collarbone Breaker Gully, an unfortunate incident back in 2012 which rewarded me with my first ever broken bone, at the grand old age of fifty two. Emerging at The White Horse Hotel, we would normally take the road down into Rosedale Abbey but today, for a bit of a variation, we crossed over the road and headed for Thorgill, then across fields, eventually ending up at the self-service cafe at Dale Head Farm. which was surprisingly empty despite their being a few ramblers wandering about the valley.
From the cafe, a brutal climb takes us back onto the rail track on Rosedale East Side and continues around the head of the valley, the most technical section of the whole ride, where railtrack turns to singletrack at a section where the railtrack is lost to bog. Once this section is circumnavigated, it is back to the cinders, as we climb gradually back to our cars.
Our route was the basic Rosedale Round with a slight variation. We began as normal, following the old rail track to Chimney Bank Top, passing the odd reminder of the area’s industrial heritage on the virtually flat track. The good weather from the start of the week is cooling off but it remains sunny although the wind is cold enough to remind us it’s still April.
After crossing the road, our next objective was Ana Cross in the near distance, from where it is downhill all the way to Lastingham on a mixture of hard-packed mud and gravel. A great start to any route, miles and miles of downhill but all good things and all that meant we were soon climbing, gradually on the singletrack, past High Askew Farm (ghostly titter from The Pensioner), above the River Seven towards Rosedale Abbey, cautiously through Collarbone Breaker Gully, an unfortunate incident back in 2012 which rewarded me with my first ever broken bone, at the grand old age of fifty two. Emerging at The White Horse Hotel, we would normally take the road down into Rosedale Abbey but today, for a bit of a variation, we crossed over the road and headed for Thorgill, then across fields, eventually ending up at the self-service cafe at Dale Head Farm. which was surprisingly empty despite their being a few ramblers wandering about the valley.
From the cafe, a brutal climb takes us back onto the rail track on Rosedale East Side and continues around the head of the valley, the most technical section of the whole ride, where railtrack turns to singletrack at a section where the railtrack is lost to bog. Once this section is circumnavigated, it is back to the cinders, as we climb gradually back to our cars.
Relive 'The Rosedale Round Revised.'
The Breadlad
Thursday 25th April 2019 route
The Sky Is Leaking
Early start today, me and The Breadlad offloading bikes at the (to us anyway) unfeasibly early hour of ten o’clock, as other people are finishing their ride/run/walk and heading for home. Don’t these people have beds? Are they sleeping rough in the forest? Despite a bright start to the day, it has now clouded over and the temperature is heading back toward the seasonal average for April. Mediocre in other words. We took ourselves off for a ‘gentle’ ride around Guisborough Woods, taking in a few of the dry and dusty trails before climbing to the east side of the woods for a look at the fire damage, the charcoal spread a little further than last week following a flare up, but not too far.
As we headed toward Pinchinthorpe Visitor Centre, or more importantly, the cafe, via further dry and dusty trails the unthinkable happened. Water began leaking from the sky, teasing us with barely-there droplets, an ethereal moisture embracing our skin, gradually increasing in volume until we could deny it no longer and stopped to don waterproof coats.
The trails soaked up the water like The Ginger One having his first pint after the two day abstinence he calls night shifts but the roots soon became greasy, rejecting knobbly tyre caresses by firing wheels in random directions as we made our way down the last trails of the ride. The rain has driven everyone indoors and we managed to grab the last two seats in the cafe amongst the throng of dogs, toddlers and ladies who lunch.
Relive 'The Sky Is Leaking'
Mountain Bike Ride
The Nissan Nomads, The Ginger One.
Friday 26th April 2019 route.
Pre-Spain Ride From The Costa Del Sheepwash
The Nissan lads have once again escaped the urban paradise of Sunderland and today headed down the A19 to Sheepwash for a pre-Spain friendly. The temperature is continuing its nosedive back towards to winter, the wind is pushing and shoving like a playground bully and some clouds on the horizon are flexing their muscles, ready for the sort of action we could do without. Coats are donned for the start of the ride, the wind is that cold, and we take the pleasant path along the reservoir before climbing up through the woods to High Lane, heading for Square Corner and the Mad Mile, it’s intimidating verticality plunging down the shoulder of a brooding Black Hambleton. Luckily we only tackled the foothills before turning off into Silton Woods, or what is left of Silton Woods and making our way to the downhill track, with only a slight bit of misdirection. In my defence it all looks different without the trees.
Our quartet galloped down the track with all the style and aplomb of four blokes on the verge of middle age, wheels barely, if ever, leaving the floor, bone-breaking velocity avoided because “we’re going to Spain in 6 days.” Happy with our endeavours, four riders safely to the bottom without so much as a bruise between them, we made the heinous fire road climb to Square Corner and continued back to the woods above Cod Beck. The track we call Rod’s came next, initially weaving between trees before timber gives way to gorse on a narrow downhill track, the lads wearing short sleeves emerging looking like they had been mauled by some particularly camp tigers. Apparently my fault. And then we climbed again, all the way to the top of Scarth Wood Moor, for one of our favourite runs, through the woods, blasting between the conifers on a brown ribbon of spongy pine needles. We climbed the moor again, back to the high point, ready to take on Olly’s Folly, rocky and steep to start, then a grassy cruise back to the car park, a brilliant finish to the ride.
We did consider an extra loop to do the rocky slabs down to the ford but after a look up from below, “we’re going to Spain in 6 days”, discretion before valour and assorted other craven cliches spewed forth and we retired to the more genteel surroundings of The Rusty Bike for coffee and pies.
Relive 'Pre-Spain Ride From The Costa Del Sheepwash.'
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