It's Canny Warm, Like.

Summer puts in an appearance (for a bit), we have an Australian visitor, the highest temperature ever recorded and a trip to The Lake District to drink beer, ride bikes and fit in a bit of industrial archaeology.

Canny Warm Like

23rd July 2019

The Breadlad, Sarah

Me and The Breadlad were joined by a visitor today, a lady from Australia who wanted a look around Guisborough Woods, unfortunately for her there were only two slightly chubby gentlemen on the verge of middle-age to perform the honours. We brought our usual start time forward by half an hour because The Breadlad was on nights, apparently everyone in Australia has their rides over and done with by ten am. Sarah usually gets up at four thirty to begin her ride at five thirty, anyone turning up at Pinchinthorpe car park at five thirty in the morning would probably be arrested. The day was hot and sunny, the start of the mini-heatwave forecast to scorch the country over the next few days. 

A convoluted route was devised, a smorgasbord of trails, from through the trees tight to open moorland. It soon became apparent that our casual approach to riding, training, nutrition and sun block is not the Australian way - or not the way of the club Sarah rides with, social riding seemingly viewed as some sort of deviancy; we were hopelessly outclassed, panting up the ascents while Sarah powered off into the distance. Probably because we are not acclimatised to the heat like she is, the temperature is in the low eighties fahrenheit, twenty seven and a bit in centigrade and planning to get hotter, sweat running in our eyes, Camelbaks sucked dry, it’ll all be over by Saturday. Hopefully Sarah enjoyed her ride with us and got an appreciation of what is on offer in our local riding area. 

PS. It is Saturday as I write this, fifteen degrees cooler and it has rained the whole day, summer 2019, all four days of it looks to be over. 

Relive 'Morning Jul 23rd'

They’ve Only Gone And Ruined Turkey Nab

24th July 2019
The Youth

Another day of similar temperatures to yesterday, The Youth managed to drag himself out on the bike for the second time this month and we decided on a straight-forward over the tops ride from Clay Bank but first we had to haul ourselves and our bikes up the Carr Ridge steps to Urra Moor. Reaching the gate, hot and sweaty, us, not the gate, we took a breather before continuing upwards until Round Hill (the less than photogenic highest point on the North York Moors) came into view and things level out a bit. 

A broad and sandy track across the moor joins the old Rosedale railway between Bloworth Crossing and Incline Top, we headed for the Incline before cutting across onto the Cleveland Way, following this track to Burton Howe, where we hung a right to pick up the Coal Road, another wide track, which leads down to the ruins of the old coal mine at Armouth Wath. This track seems to have had some resurfacing work done, smoothing out the lumps and bumps, no doubt something to do with the approach of the grouse shooting season. We continued north east across Ingleby Moor, crossing the Baysdale track and picking up a nice bit of singletrack which leads to the top of Turkey Nab - or Ingleby Bank to use its proper name, looking forward to the slightly technical descent over slabby bedrock and around broken gullies. Except it’s gone, buried under a uniform covering of hard core, reduced to nothing more exciting than a fire road descent, duller than an evening in front of the television, as much fun as watching a submarine race, all the way to Bank Foot, not a rock or a drop off to be seen. Hopefully, the wobbly-heads in their 4x4's will loosen the hardcore before a few good rainstorms wash it away and restore things to their former glory. 

The standard fire road through the woods finish took us back to Clay Bank, arriving drenched in sweat as the heatwave continues. The forecasters are saying tomorrow might be the hottest day ever in England.

Relive 'Morning Jul 24th'

Force Crag Mine and Back

25th July 2019
La Mujerita

We have passed Force Crag mine in Coledale many times over the years, both cycling and on foot, recently the National Trust began open days. Although the mine shafts, or levels as they are known, cannot be accessed, the processing plant is opened up and guided tours are given, today was one of the open days and we rode the short distance to the mine from Luchini’s View, the scenic  layby on the road over Whinlatter Pass. 

The mine tour was, as they, interesting and informative beginning with the geology of the mountain before going into more detail regarding how the various minerals were extracted, starting with mining the ore-bearing rock, passing it through a series of crushers and screens to end up with ninety nine percent pure ore, mainly zinc or barytes. We were in the building on the hottest day of the year, or possibly the hottest British day ever, it was pretty stifling; when the plant was running, the noise and dust must have been horrendous, it’s little wonder the workers succumbed to industrial diseases, although there must have been some rudimentary health and safety because it seems there was only a single accidental death in the hundred and fifty or so years the mine was open. 

The return ride along the mine track is always more rapid than the outward journey, the track is slightly downhill all the way, 2.25 miles with 0 feet of ascent, according to my GPS. That is to the end of the track, at the little car park, unfortunately, we were parked at Luchini’s View, half a mile further on and two hundred and forty feet higher up, if my grasp of the mathematics is correct, a 9.1% gradient, on the hottest day since records began. At one point my car thermometer registered 31.5 degrees C, Mr. Luchini and his ice cream van are a welcome sight, despite the brevity of our ride, a double scoop 99 was virtually mandatory.

The Old Coach Road

26th July 2019

La Mujerita

After a comfortable night in The Horse And Farrier in Threlkeld, a nice meal and a few cold ones to wash it down with, strictly for hydration purposes naturally, this morning began with the inevitable full English. I could have followed La Mujerita’s example and ate a little more sensibly but you know how it is when the bacon, sausage and egg train comes around, you just have to get onboard. Calorie stores suitably primed, we left Threlkeld behind, another warm day but intermittent cloud cover ensuring yesterday’s temperatures were not repeated, taking minor roads, roughly parallel to the A66 before veering right and riding even less-frequented roads to High Row and the start of the Old Coach Road. Predominantly climbing all the way but fairly gently. 

At the gate which marks the start of the off-road track (or end, depending which way you are going) a few mountain bikers came through, all wearing numbers, it turned out to be Rat Race - The Crossing, a three day coast to coast event through the Lake District, Yorkshire Dales and North York Moors, finishing in Scarborough. Six hundred of them and all going in the opposite direction to us but it is a wide track and they were a friendly bunch, most of them remarkably jolly despite having came up from St. John’s In The Vale, a hideous ascent on loose rock and scree, which was to be our descent later. 

There is some doubt whether the coaches actually ever used the Old Coach Road, as it a fairly arduous detour by any standards, with a lot of ascent to reach it no matter what direction it is approached from, unless the valley bottom, where the present A66 runs was especially boggy or maybe bandit-infested, it is hard to imagine hauling a coach up there. It does make a nice bike route though, doing it from east to west as we were gets the majority of the climbing out of the way on tarmac and finishes with a phenomenal descent to the road in St. John’s In The Vale, losing almost a thousand feet of height in two miles, all on a wide, rocky track, mud-free with a spectacular view across to the Blencathra, towering over Threlkeld, rocky ridges scraping the clouds. 

Too soon it was all over and we were risking an early checkout trying to cross the A66 as cars whizzed toward Keswick, desperate to shave a few seconds off their rush to join the car park queues because it is Keswick Convention, where hundreds of earnest people join to together in collective delusion to worship their imaginary friend. They could spend that time mountain biking instead, glorying in the beauty of nature, where praying is reserved for the anticipatory interlude between flying over the handlebars and hitting the ground.

Relive 'Morning Jul 26th'

The Six Ride Blog

The Six Ride Blog.

It looks as though I have been a bit lax lately, writing up the blog, so here is a bumper edition covering most of the past two weeks.

Scooting Round Scaling

Monday 8th July 2019

Rod, The Ginger One.

It is nearly two weeks since this ride happened, so I am a bit vague on the specifics, Rod had some time off work and The Ginger One managed to tear himself away from the constant battle for overtime which is the main feature of industrial life amongst those who know no better. We had a pretty standard ride from Scaling Dam car park, making our way to Lealholm via the gruesome climb, known on Strava as The Slagbag. 

From Lealholm, roads took us to Houlsyke, then across the fields to Stonebeck Gate, from where we hauled our bikes and bodies to the top of Ainthorpe Rigg. The ride down to Danby was a suitable reward for our efforts, relief was short-lived as we made the stiff climb up The Lord’s Turnpike to Clitherbeck, then across the moor and up to Danby Beacon where we had a breather, looking at the view across the heather to Scaling Dam reservoir, gleaming blue in the afternoon sunlight. 

The awesome singletrack across Roxby Moor came next and we sped through heather on a narrow ribbon of loose rock and baked earth before the track widens as we head back to the farm road which takes us back to the car park and some welcome sustenance, a concoction of bread, grease and left-over parts from some unidentified animal. Heaven.

Relive 'Scooting Round Scaling.'

Dodging Showers From Lordstones

Friday 12th July 2019
Rod, The Breadlad.

I was able to catch up with Rod again following my two day, eighty mile ride with La Mujerita (blog here), we were joined by The Breadlad, freshly released from his forty eight hours of incarceration in the crumpet factory. We set off from Lordstones and rode some trails which may not be ready to be popularised just yet but they were enjoyable, eventually ending up at Clay Bank, girding our loins for the climb up Barker’s Ridge onto Urra Moor. 

From the top, an old favourite beckoned - The Rim, a natural trail, partly following the course of an ancient earthwork along the edge of the moor, high above Bilsdale. The dry(ish) weather has taken care of most of the squelchy bits, more than can be said of our next bit of trail, the descent through East Bank Plantation, which has a minor swamp to contend with, for a few metres before reverting to sweet loam and dry roots, down through conifers and startled deer. 

A farm track continues the route down to Chop Gate from where the Raisdale Road climbs back towards Lordstones, we took the turn off to Beak Hills, solely for an off-road finish. The sun is actually doing a bit of blazing and we sat outside to savour the warmth, indulging in some pint sized rehydration.

Relive 'Morning Jul 12th'

Mooching In The Sunshine

Monday 15th July 2019
All Alone

The start of another week and for the first time in quite a while it looks like it may be a week of lonesome trails for me as everyone  - all three of them, nowadays - is indulging in that thing I have almost forgotten, work. And look what they are missing, dryness, warmth, sunshine, bikes, hills plus the pleasure of my sophisticated conversation and penetrating insights into current affairs. Remind me again, just who is the Prime Minister at this moment in time? Such trivia was far from my mind as I climbed up the hill from Gribdale onto Newton Moor, shirt soon sticking to my back as the sun took hold. 

I made my way to Guisborough Woods  picking trails, more or less randomly but being a former process operator, therefore highly skilled in the art of energy conservation, managing to keep height loss to a minimum. I rode man-made and natural trails until up hill and down dale, as they might say in some parts of Yorkshire, until hunger pulled me back to the car via Andy’s Track which drops straight down the hillside to the car park. 

It will be for the last time for riding this track until autumn as the bracken is encroaching on the trail, already head height in some places’ another week and it will be too thick to get a bike through. In a rare flash of foresight, I’d brought a little picnic to eat when I got back to the car - okay, a sandwich, some crisps and a flask of coffee but it was grand, sitting on the grass in the sunshine feeling ever so grateful to those poor suckers keeping the wheels of industry turning but more importantly, keeping my pension topped up.

Relive 'Morning Jul 15th'

Birk Brow. Call yourself a hill?

Wednesday 17th July 2019
All Alone

Owing to a crisis in the pocket change department, courtesy of the National Health Service’s “kick ‘em when they’re down” parking policy, a leaf was taken from The Breadlad’s book, this summer’s bestseller, “Parsimony Pays (For My Holidays)” and I parked on Hutton Village road. It has been mainly dry for a while and the thought of the track from the Quaker’s Causeway to Westworth Wood has been tickling my fancy for some time now. There are a few ways to approach the area, I figured the most direct would be up Birk Brow and down the causeway to the bifurcation, where the bridleways split, one continuing along the causeway, the other heading across High Moor to Westworth Wood, which is an outlier of Guisborough Forest. 

Giving myself a gentle start, I pedalled along the old railway track skirting Guisborough, emerging at Charltons and the bottom of Birk Brow, infamous in winter for jack-knifed HGV’s and in summer for the dreaded caravanners. It is not too bad a climb, really two climbs with a flattish bit in the middle and I was soon riding past the burger van, manfully resisting the siren call of double bacon cheeseburger and onions, five miles into a ride is a bit early even by my undeniably low standards. Gaining the Quakers Causeway, climbing then descending, quite happily, on the uneven stone flags, it is difficult to understand why so much hatred and revulsion is directed toward this track by my fellow riders, just turn on the suspension, get a bit of momentum going and it’s fine. I guess they must have buttocks like two jellyfish in a sack, unlike my buns of steel. The path to Westworth Woods is not paved, more like a standard moors track, rocks, mud, grass, heather, one section is usually a miserable bog slog, which is why a dry spell is a must. Today it was all rideable, along the path are some engraved standing stones which I’d never noticed before, a couple dating back to 1798. There are nice sections of singletrack leading down to the woods, despite the challenging gorse bushes. A steep climb heads up through Westworth Wood, coming out at a gate which leading into Guisborough Wood, around about where the fire occurred a few weeks ago, the blackened ground already showing traces of greenery. 

At this point, I was at the very top of Guisborough Woods, car parked at the very bottom of Guisborough Woods which could only mean one thing - Downhill Time, a bit like Hammer Time but with better music and tighter pants. Literally spoilt for choice, I made my way back to Hutton Village via a selection of trails ranging from fast, wide and rocky to thrashing through the trees, well, as much thrashing as someone rapidly closing the gap into the twilight world of the sexagenarian can manage. If I am entering God’s Waiting Room, it may as well be on a mountain bike with rocks and roots under the wheels and sheep shit on the tyres, I’ll save the beige cardigans and Hush Puppies to wear when I’m sitting on a chair with a toilet in it, sucking a Werther’s Original and moaning about the price of a TV license. 

Relive 'Morning Jul 17th'

It’s Local And It’s Leisurely

Thursday 18th July 2019
La Mujerita

Just a gentle local ride with La Mujerita. A bit of road, a bit of gravel, even a bit of singletrack here and there and home for lunch. Weather managed to stay warm and nothing of any excitement happened. Plenty of roadies about, getting the miles in ready before spending the remainder of the day slouched on the settee, watching the Tour De France on TV. 

Relive 'Morning Jul 18th'

Drizzly Danby

Friday 20th July 2019
The Youth

The Youth decided to give this mountain biking lark another go, after a few weeks of indolence - or work as he calls it. We got ourselves to Danby just in time for it to begin drizzling, an indecisive attempt at precipitation which left us undecided as to whether we needed to wear coats or not. In the end we compromised, The Youth wore his because he was whining on about having some unspecified lurgy and I stayed in shirtsleeves because I’m from Hartlepool. The Youth had requested “some singletrack and some downhill” and that is what was duly delivered; unless you are in a really happy place like Les Gets or Whistler, climbing is a necessity to access the funtimes. 

Today was no different, we panted our way up the Pannierman’s Causeway from Danby until we reached the road which leads to Danby Beacon, turning left, we headed for Robin Hood’s Butts and ultimately the Sis Cross bridleway. This is another of the ancient tracks which cross the moors, thought to be originally for trade between communities, today the Sis Cross track is a narrow track, carving downward through heather, sinuous and flowing on a good day, a rutted boggy mudfest on a bad day. We were having a good day, firm ground and dried mud meant speedy progress back to Danby, where we passed through the village, exiting in the opposite direction, climbing through Ainthorpe before leaving the road and taking the bridleway across Ainthorpe Rigg, the prevaricating precipitation still with us but too hot to wear a coat, The Youth having dispensed with his some time back. 

The downhill from the top of Ainthorpe Rigg begins down a rocky gully before opening out to a grassy track, spitting us out on the Fryupdale Road like a cat spitting fur balls. As we reached the Yorkshire Cycle Hub, so did some proper rain but we were content to watch it from behind our coffee cups. By the time we left, what passes for summer around these parts had returned and we rode back through the fields to Crag Farm in bright sunshine, it was deemed good enough for one of the fabled ‘extra loops’, we rode to Clitherbeck and reversed our start, taking revenge on the Pannierman and his causeway by plunging down it in the friendly gravity direction. 

Relive 'Morning Jul 19th'