The Pointless Bits Of Hamsterley Forest.

The Pointless Bits Of Hamsterley Forest.

Thursday 16th January 2020

Hamsterley

Alone

Billy No Mates time again as the lure of gainful employment or international jet-setting syphons riders off, so it was to be a quick shred round the Hamsterley Hotlap for me. Arriving at the forest, there was a capricious change of plan, deciding to take advantage of my lone status and have a bit of an explore instead. A fire road climb to Windybank Road came and went, I had a quick inspect of The Pensioner’s entrance, looked a bit sloppy, so I continued along the road, passing the start of Descend and heading down the next track along. This turned out to be sloppy too, puddles, wet roots, trees, darkness - usual Hamsterley off-piste winter standard; steep drop into muddy ditch, testicle versus cross bar interface to finish. 

Emerging, slightly cross-eyed, onto the official red route where it comes along the old Descend hut, I thought I would follow red route signs, just for a bit of local knowledge. In 22 years of visiting Hamsterley Forest’s routes in their many incarnations, I don’t believe I have ever stuck strictly to the stipulated route, being lucky enough to have rode with knowledgeable people who knew the shortcuts and the hidden tracks. The section between the hut and Blackling Hole was not unknown to me, ridden once or twice before, probably with Rod, no doubt in search of a bit of off-piste heaven (or hell); it’s mainly a rock strewn climb followed by a smooth singletrack to the road at Blackling Hole. From Blackling Hole, I was following red arrows and regretting it with every turn of the cranks, miles of featureless fire road, climbing, forever climbing, knowing, eventually I would come to the turn off for Polty’s Last Blast, the start of five sections of pure pleasure but the purgatory continued. Still climbing, surrounded by conifers, dark and gloomy to match my mood; surely it can’t go any higher? Every turn revealed the answer to that question. Onwards and upwards I plodded, becoming a hazard to the low flying jets buzzing around the valley; expecting the land to change to high altitude sub-arctic tundra complete with bowler-hatted Peruvians playing Pan pipes as I gasped in the thin air but no, just more conifers. I reached the edge of the forest, an escape gate out onto open moorland beckoned but it was the wrong direction and I was determined to reach the good stuff before dark or old age. The next section, climbing steeply on loose rocks was no fun but a change from fire roads, more red arrows pointing to more uninspiring tracks until, eventually, the big sign at the start of Polty’s came into sight. ‘Red, Is This For You?’  Fu**ing right it is. 

The fantastic five, Polty’s, K Line, Transmission, Accelerator, Nitrous were enjoyed like the beer at the end of Ice Cold In Alex, this is what it’s all about. Why the red route does such a huge, pointless detour I can’t imagine, some of the trails at Hamsterley are right up there with the best in the world, they are the main reason for most mountain bikers to visit the forest, mixing them in with sections which are as much fun as a lumbar puncture makes no sense. If I had been a first time visitor, with no knowledge of the trails, following the red signs, disheartened and demoralised, a return visit would be very doubtful, especially if Cough Up A Lung Lane from The Grove was included.