Too many words? Video here
What a month July was, 320 miles and 29,000 feet of ascent in 19 rides, taking in the Yorkshire Dales and the Lake District as well as our usual North York Moors. Summer tried to put in an appearance but found itself mostly defeated by heavy cloud cover, although a few days managed to be absolute scorchers, including possibly the hottest day ever in Britain - the day we found ourselves riding up Whinlatter Pass, luckily only as far as a handy ice cream van. A couple of rides from the last two days of the month to blog, so here they are below. Not forgetting Linda’s Big ride, 81 miles in two days, separate blog and video here.
And that takes us to over 300 miles this month
Tuesday 30th July 2019
Alone
Pulling into Gribdale car park, rain began to splatter the windscreen, by the time the bike was off the roof rack a full blown downpour was ensuing, coat on, hood up, using the car for shelter as the wind did its best to push rain through clothing. When it eased slightly I set off up the hill to Newton Moor, five minutes later, the coat was back in the bag and the sun was out - crazy weather. All alone today, everyone else doing the work to live thing because I don’t know anyone who does the live to work thing. Although there are a few work for the money and then work some more for the extra money when they could be out on their bikes. As a Lancashire lunatic of our acquaintance used to say, “There’s no pockets in a shroud, lad.”
I took advantage of my solo state to indulge in a bit of selfie filming around Guisborough Woods, stopping and starting to move cameras and session sections of trail, here and there, spending almost ninety minutes on The Secret Path alone, not a popular move on a group ride. These non-creatives just can’t comprehend the difficulties of making movies darling, how difficult it is making a chubby bloke on the verge of middle-age look good as he bounces slowly down a bunch of slippery roots. In the can, as we say, it was time to crack a few miles off, around the woods and out onto the moors for a bit, getting as much done today as I could because tomorrow’s forecast is pretty dire, rain all day with a chunk of thunder and lightning thrown in.
Relive 'Morning Jul 30th'
A Pretty Mediocre Attempt At A Summer
Wednesday 31st July 2019
The Ginger One, Billy
As mentioned previously, today is forecast to be the worst day in a frankly average month, discounting the few scorching days, it has been predominantly wet and windy, it seemed like summer for a couple of days, just as you start to remember regular sunblock before riding, the clouds move in like a crowd of angry housewives when somebody talks during the bingo, blocking out the sun for a few days. We met up at Lordstones in a light drizzle, cloud ceiling at around chest height - for the taller ones anyway, The Ginger One wrenched himself away from his usual place, which is in the control room, on overtime on someone else's shift.
Amazingly enough he brought a friend, not that his friends aren’t welcome, it just amazed us he has a friend who actually comes out in the light, from the tales he tells it appeared all his mates are denizens of Darlington Snooker Club, border-line alcoholics who only put down their pints to go to the bookies or to pick up a snooker cue or a set of darts, their idea of strenuous exercise turning the television over. And here is a real life mountain biker, welcome Billy, ready to battle whatever North Yorkshire can throw at him, standing in the grey clag of a hilltop car park, happily unaware of the start we have planned, an assault on the gliding club access track, luckily hidden by the low cloud, only the gradual slowing of legs and quickening of breath to prove we are on a hill. Thankfully, it doesn’t go on too long and things level out for a while before dropping down to Brian’s Pond, the flat light making it difficult to judge the depth of the drainage ditches cutting across the track.
What comes down, must go up and it was not long before we were climbing again, up Barker’s Ridge to gain another sandy moorland track towards Cock Howe, a bit draggy today; in poor visibility we were looking for the narrow bridleway which goes to Head House, we found it after a bit of searching. Heading nicely downhill to a stream, the narrow bridleway cuts straight through the heather, with the odd drop-off to keep us on our toes. Or not in my case, as I dived off the track into head-height bracken, crowd surfing the fronds until they realised I am neither light, young nor attractive and I was dropped quicker than Gary Glitter’s Babysitting Service. The mocking laughter of my companions echoed across the valley as I extricated myself from the bracken, rejoining them for the last few metres to Head House, where we had the mandatory mooch and munch stop before climbing again, more draggy sand, passing the barely visible Bilsdale Mast as we headed back toward Cock Howe and our objective, Trennet Bank.
The weather, horrendous by the standards of any summer, has still been a big improvement on the forecast, which was for continual rain, thunder and lightning but apart from slight drizzle and low cloud it had not been a bad ride. Setting off down Trennet Bank, the highlight of the ride, the weather rewarded our ‘who dares wins’ attitude to the forecast with a lashing shower, all the way down, we reached Chop Gate wetter than Whitney Houston’s last joint, where, naturally enough, the rain moved on to find some other suckers to moisten. By mutual decision, tarmac was taken from Chop Gate, all the way back to Lordstones for dry clothes and KFP (Kentucky Fried Pheasant) wraps.
Relive 'Morning Jul 31st'
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