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'