Here Comes The Summer?

Mountain Bike Ride

Monday 15th April 2019 route
The Ginger One


The “Somebody Set Fire To The Woods” Ride.

The easter holidays are upon us, our usual quiet car parks, half-empty cafes and deserted trails have been infested (in the words of The Ginger One) with day people, that curious sub-species of wage slave, who all start work at the same time, sit in the same traffic jams, leave the same time, sit in more traffic jams, home, food, telly, bed, alcoholic oblivion every weekend. People that get excited at the thought of a four day break. How we laugh; four days off is the minimum shift worker break, which is hurried through in anticipation of the next ten day break, only surpassed in terms of excitement by the eighteen day break, only two of those per year though, shame. With this in mind me and The Ginger One met at a rapidly filling Gribdale car park, with bikes and a little post-ride picnic to avoid having to squeeze into an overflowing cafe. The newly refurbished track up Nab End is again shown to an unbelieving cyclist, from rocks and waist deep ruts to a steep but easily rideable highway to Percy Cross Rigg. The weather is following the usual bright but cool wind trend it has for the last few days, despite being warm from our climbing exertions, losing the windproof left us chilled. Oh, the dilemmas we face daily, I don’t know how we manage.

We managed to climb our way up and over Codhill Heights to Guisborough Woods, ready and eager to let some of Guisborough’s finest tracks ease away our troubles and woes. Heading eastward, we came to the much-publicised devastation, allegedly the devil making work for idle hands and all that, a couple of acres of new woodland reduced to a Hollywood dystopia of blackened trees and scorched earth, carbonized heather still smouldering, the brisk wind fanning the hot peat into little spurts of flame. The Ginger One used his special man hose and a tank of recycled John Smiths to douse the flames. It hardly mattered,  everything that could burn has burnt. It seems the popular Eston pastime of setting fire to the hills may have spread to Guisborough, let’s hope not - for the arsonist’s sake, many people are passionate about Guisborough Woods, not only the cyclists and trailbuilders but equestrians and dog-walkers, ramblers, ornithologists and everyone who, knowingly or unknowingly, likes a bit of shrinrin-yoku, forest bathing in Japanese, taking in the forest atmosphere, a cornerstone in healing and preventative healthcare in Japanese medicine. It’s not inconceivable that twisted firestarters could become battered firestarters one day.

Leaving the scorched earth behind us, we took in a few more of Guisborough’s finest trails, okay, easiest trails, heading in an uphill and down dale fashion back west, eventually reaching Roseberry Common from where we carried our bikes up the steps onto Newton Moor, just to avoid a an uphill tarmac finish back to Gribdale. Instead we squeezed in the Lonsdale Bowl, Fingerbender Bank and Andy’s Track before returning to the cars for our picnic, the deceptive blue sky belying the fact it was actually colder than a woman proved wrong.

Relive 'The "Somebody Set Fire To The Woods" Ride'

Mountain Bike Ride

Tuesday 16th April 2019 route
La Mujerita

Swainby Shorty

The following day was equally cold and sunny, me and La Mujerita found ourselves panting up the bank to Whorlton Castle for the start of a little ride around the area. We rode through the hamlet of Whorlton and continued through fields to Faceby, everywhere pleasingly dry and climbed up into the plantation, following the bridleway through the trees which eventually popped us out at Heathwaite in the Scugdale valley.

The infamous Cowshit Farm was our next objective, although it is a completely different place to fifteen years ago when The Ginger One wobbled while riding through a farmyard of knee-deep slurry and was forced to put his foot down into the mire, wearing shorts too; remarkably he did not contract Weils Disease or Foot And Mouth. Nowadays it is a clean ride through the farmyard and across grassy fields to Clain Woods where La Mujerita was introduced to the Clain Woods steps, a seemingly interminable incline of wooden steps, part of the famous Lyke Wake Walk (other long distance walks are available), a push/carry/swear all the way up, for us mere mortals. Howard managed to ride it the other week, throwing the gauntlet down to the rest of the Terra Trailblazers. And there it remains to this day, covered in mud, horse shit and rambler’s footprints.

We climbed up Scarth Wood Moor on the paved track before entering the woods to find a route back down to Swainby, still a few fallen trees, casualties of the winter storms blocking the trails but everywhere mostly bone dry. We passed the crenellated house of Scarth Wood Farm and rode through fields of newborn lambs, bleating loudly at the intrusion as their mothers’ stood by indifferently chewing grass. The Rusty Bike cafe was strangely quiet for a holiday week but we weren’t complaining.

Relive 'Swainby Shorty'

Mountain Bike Ride

Wednesday 17th April 2019 route
The Youth

Coatless At Clay Bank

Another day: another bike ride, as the saying goes and this time it was The Youth and an old classic, the Tripsdale Round, a quicky because he is still constrained by that curious pastime known as work, I can’t see it catching on myself, and needed to be home by mid-afternoon. And as we stepped from the car in Clay Bank car park, we were assailed by a curious feeling - heat, coats were packed into bags, “just in case”, hopefully to remain there until November. Despite the shortness of the route, it has some gruesome climbs, starting with the Carr Ridge steps and continuing up to Round Hill, as we all know, the highest point on the North York Moors.

From here it levels out a bit and wide, sandy tracks are taken across the moors, with a few ups and downs until we find ourselves high above the Tripsdale valley, salivating at the thought of almost a mile of descent, culminating in some steep hairpins to cross the stream in the valley bottom. Today it was magnificent, dry, dusty, loose and rocky, like a spring day in Spain, The Youth vanished into the distance, only the odd puff of dust rising from his back wheel to mark his progress. The more circumspect member of today’s team made more sedate progress but all too soon we were facing the equal and opposite reaction to a marvellous downhill, the abominable uphill, equally steep, loose and rocky, we climbed up like a pair of escaping sloths, slowly reaching the sanctuary of Nab End Moor.

Following the track northward to Medd Crag, we enjoyed another rapid descent to Bilsdale Hall farm, where we were greeted by the sight of two shirtless youths lifting weights in the farmyard, which prompted The Youth to tell he how much he could ‘bench’. He might as well have said wench or trench for all I cared, I’ll only be impressed when he can ride up a hill faster than somebody who is rather closer to his seventh decade than he’d like.  A couple of miles of warm tarmac and we were back in the car park, another day successfully wasted.

Relive 'Coatless At Clay Bank'

Mountain Bike Ride

Thursday 18th April 2019 route
The Nissan Nomads

It’s Grim Up North

Two companions from the arid trails of the Costa Del Sol, Ian and Charlie, have ventured south from the northern utopia of Wearside to sample the arid trails of Guisborough Woods and the surrounding area, on a day which wouldn’t disgrace midsummer. We met by the river in Great Ayton, a popular spot for duck feeding, dog walking and rolled-up trouser water-splodging, with or without the aid of a fishing net. Still relatively empty this early in the day. Introductions remade, we begin on tarmac, passing Fletcher’s Farm coffee shop, thronged with the morning coffee crowd and continuing to Aireyholme Farm, climbing to Roseberry Common. It soon became apparent that my companions were not on their fourth mountain bike ride of the week and I was soon relegated to the status of fat lad at the back, as their fresh legs spun casually up the climbs. I’d actually sat down and planned out a route today, maximum tracks for minimum climbing but it still involved a lot more uphill than is usual for a retired process operator. Having a feeling I’d be regretting this later, we embarked on our first track, the relatively gentle and (since the trees were felled) popular, Hanging Stone, regaining the fire road before a stiff climb took us to a trail that may or may not be called Lazy Adder, one of those weaving through the woods, mind the handlebars sort of things, never too steep but enjoyable nonetheless. More of Guisborough Woods’ finest fireroad followed until we reached Snakebite, in perfect condition today, dry roots and packed earth all the way to the Blue Lake. What goes up must come down, a short climb took us to Stripes 2, another easy but fun trail dropping us down to the bottom of The Unsuitables. Rather than climb said track, we continued into Hutton Village and up the tarmac road back into the forest but not before I had demonstrated my proficiency at somersaulting over the handlebars when a wooden drop off turned out to be a somewhat higher than I expected. 

At the top of the tarmac climb we turned left and climbed some more, up to the junction of tracks beneath the imposing Highcliffe Nab, ready and eager to take on our next track, Lover’s Ledge, the lengthiest trail so far, transitioning from woodland singletrack to open hillside via berms, mini-jumps and mercifully dry tree roots, in places steep and technical with the added distraction of the fine view across Hutton Hall and Guisborough to the North Sea behind. “Like being in Spain.” opined one of my companions, where we will all be in thirteen days time. Of course, this little slice of pure pleasure was followed by an ascent so gruesome it made colonoscopy look inviting. Further, more gentle climbing brought us to The Nipple, a well known landmark on Codhill Heights, renown amongst mountain bikers for the descent down the other side, Scalextric, the Wearside Wanderers soon found out how the name was coined, locked into a network of ruts making up the descent, it’s just a matter of pointing the bike downward and trying to avoid scraping the side walls and being flung off into the heather. They found it to be the most challenging trail of the day but not as challenging as I found the climb out of Sleddale when we had already climbed in excess of two thousand feet, or to look at it another way, something in the region of seven thousand feet of climbing for me this week. The Lonsdale Bowl, Fingerbender Bank and Andy’s Track took us to the road at a pretty full Gribdale. Weary, hot and hungry we continued to Fletcher’s Farm, where in a reversal of the normal conditions, all the outside tables were taken, forcing us to sit inside, sweltering and doubtless giving off an aroma more suited to a genuine barn than a busy cafe.

Relive 'It's Grim Up North'