Blowing Away The Post Holiday Blues

Blowing Away The Post Holiday Blues
Friday 10th May
The Breadlad

First ride out since returning from another superb Sierra Cycling holiday in Southern Spain and it’s difficult not to be constantly thinking about where we were forty eight hours ago, especially as the British weather is a lot colder than it looks. Luring us out with sunshine, blue sky and fluffy white clouds, then sucker-punching with a wind straight from some Nordic Hell of ice and snow. Me and The Breadlad met at Lordstones to ride a fairly standard route, familiar tracks but no less good for being familiar. The initial haul up the gliding club track is as painful as ever but we were soon cruising across the moor passing Brian’s Pond and continuing to climb Barker’s Ridge. A sandy doubletrack took us to Cock Howe (cue ghostly Pensioner tittering) where we picked up the bridleway to Head House.

This lovely piece of singletrack is showing signs of underuse, the grassy section at the beginning is slightly overgrown, the track widens slightly further down where it becomes more technical - rutted and rocky, eventually dropping down to a stream which marks the end of the fun. A short climb and some grassy singletrack lead to Head House, a lonely shooting house just off Arnesgill Ridge, where we sat a while in the paradoxically bright but heatless sunshine, before climbing on more sandy doubletracks to reach Bilsdale West Moor, always in sight of the Bilsdale Mast, the most sacred totem in this part of North East England because that’s where the telly comes from. Right now beaming out property porn and  Loose Women to those unwilling or unable to find any better way to waste their days, when they could be wasting their days riding bikes around the moors.

We rode up Wether Hill, back to Cock Howe, ready for The Breadlad’s favourite North Yorkshire descent - Trennet Bank, nice and dry today but still steep and loose in parts. Too soon it was over and we were in the village of Chop Gate, ready for the tarmac drag up the Raisdale Road, rather than plod the whole way back to Lordstones on tarmac, we took the Beak Hills option and finished the ride on some of the bridleways around Cringle Moor and a downhill finish to the car park.

Relive 'Blowing Away The Post-Holiday Blues'

Sunny At Sutton Bank
Tuesday 14th May
Sean

Following three days of leaking radiators and unreliable tradesmen, I eventually got back out on the bike again; another of those false summer days, attractive but frigid,  bright sunshine tempts you into bare arms and legs, then a Siberian wind turns bare skin into a relief map of goose pimples. Bagged myself a youngster today, well, relatively young compared to the rest of us just lately, The Youth hasn’t been spotted for over a month and Benny The Brawl is just a distant memory. The old Santa Cruz was resurrected for young Sean to ride and for a twelve year old (the bike not Sean) in need of a new back wheel and a complete drivetrain, it rides surprisingly well. Not wanting to demoralise the lad, a more or less flat route was planned, starting from the little car park at Sneck Yate on the top of Boltby Bank, mainly to save the £4 parking fee at Sutton Bank. I think some of The Breadlad’s frugality is wearing off onto me, these are the methods one must employ to be a globetrotting playboy like The Breadlad, forever jetting off to exotic destinations with just a wave of his platinum credit card and the promise of some trade price crumpets. We began along the road to Dialstone Farm, picking up the Sutton Bank green route at the farm, my young companion showing a respectable turn of speed despite his years of not cycling. We stopped at the self-proclaimed “finest view in England”, Gormire Lake, nestled like a pearl amongst green trees, shadowed by the golden sandstone bulk of Whitestonecliffe. 

Continuing to Sutton Bank visitor centre, we had a quick spin around the skills loop before crossing the road, ready for the bike track through Hambleton Plantation, the closest the Sutton Bank trails come to being like a regular trail centre, a pleasant man made trail through the trees; arriving only to find the entrance taped off and plastered with No Entry signs warning us of forest operations and the danger of death by lumberjack if we entered. A bit disappointed, we headed back down the road, returning to Dialstone Farm, pausing to let a bunch of racehorse cross the road, huge animals, well-defined muscles beneath glossy coats, brimming with energy barely contained by their jockeys perched high above the ground. Falling off a bike is one thing but coming off one of those beasts as it is thundering along is too scary to contemplate. 

We made our way to The Escarpement, following white singletrack on the very edge of the moor, a sheer drop to our left, the sun is shining, the views are awesome, the only thing that could spoil a day like this is the cafe being shut. And guess what? It was, High Paradise Farm closed today and tomorrow for a bit of building work and after the weary lad had pushed his jelly legs to their limits on the promise of cake and coffee. We had no option to return the car for a feast of midget gems and the emergency Haribo.

Relive 'Sunny At Sutton Bank.'

Eating Insects In Guissy Woods
Thursday 16th May
The Breadlad.

The following ride was with the Prince Of Parsimony himself - The Breadlad, so naturally we deprived the council of £6 and parked at Hutton Village, ready for a spin about Guisborough Woods and the surrounding moors. We took in plenty of trails, both old and new before heading towards Codhill Heights to ride over, what we affectionately call The Nipple, only to be greeted with a new sign forbidding anyone but pedestrians. It looks like something or someone has annoyed the landowner because this track has been rode for many years with no problems and suddenly it is banned. Very odd.

 Being law-abiding citizens, although it is only civil law, a tort against the landowner and all that, we stuck to the bridleway instead, the gamekeeper’s pick-up was lurking about Sleddale and we thought it wise not to inflame the situation further. We rode back up Percy Cross Rigg, and regained Guisborough Woods at the top of The Unsuitables, where a few more perfect condition tracks returned us to Hutton Village, although there was a detour to the cafe. Quite a brief ride, owing to time constraints but nonetheless very enjoyable to be riding dry trails with only the merest amount of mud to remind us we are still in England.

There has been a lot of talk about the decline in the insect population of this country but there is no evidence of that over the past few days, my car windscreen looks like the floor of an arthropod slaughterhouse and we spent a lot of this ride trying to remember the words to “There was an old woman who swallowed a fly.” A popular song in my youth which is never played on the radio nowadays, probably forbidden in case some random idiot takes the lyrics literally.

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It Could Do With Being Warmer - It's May Now
Friday 17th May
La Mujerita

The next day it was the turn of La Mujerita to have the pleasure of my company and we found ourselves in the car park at Sheepwash, the weather doing it’s usual sunny but cold thing which seems to have persisted since the early summer we had in February. Some of the more specious tabloids (that’ll be all of them then) are threatening a three month heatwave - it’s a long time coming. We took ourselves along the reservoir and up to High Lane, pedalling onwards to Square Corner and kept on the tarmac before turning off onto the rough track leading to the remains of Dale Head Farm, finally uninhabitable following a fire a few years back. 

Regulars will know Dale Head Farm leads to Dale Head singletrack, which runs across the lower flank of Locker Low Moor, above Wheat Beck, not so much a flowing track as a technical challenge, rocks and ruts, muddy holes and the occasional startled grouse conspire to frustrate a clean, dab-free attempt but it beats tarmac. 

We joined the road below Low Cote Farm, ready for the uphill grind, heading back to Square Corner on virtually traffic-free tarmac, climbing initially, surrounded by green fields filled with new life, lambs and calves enjoying the sunshine. Imagine being in field filled with the food you like to eat, animals are surrounded by grass they can munch all day, if we were in a big field of crisps, or sausages or chocolate fingers or whatever, just bend down have a nibble, a bit of a sleep nibble some more, try and avoid the patch one of your siblings has crapped in. It seems like a grand life.This is the sort of nonsense that goes through my mind to alleviate the tedium of road rides. Perhaps I ought to concentrate on cadence or Strava segments like a proper cyclist? 

Returning to the woods above Cod Beck Reservoir, we finished our ride on Rod’s Track, which features a gorse bush alley of particular ferocity, even attacking through clothing, although their favourite spot is knuckles, where the spines sticking in the skin can more easily scrape the bones for maximum discomfort. The ride back along the reservoir was less painful and when we reached the bike, I demonstrated the old way of crossing the beck, before the bridge appeared. Riding straight through the stream, for some reason La Mujerita thought the bridge a more sensible option.

Relive 'It Could Do With Being Warmer - It's May Now'