September Round Up and Video

September Round Up and Video.

Video here.

September went out on a high, a couple of decent days to finish the month, contrasting with the back end of last week, when those brave enough to go out (the real mountain bikers) felt like extras in Twister, the only thing missing being flying bovines and an oil tanker getting more air than EasyJet. While the rides vacillated on a meteorological rollercoaster between the dizzy heights of Es Scorchio and the lowest lows of “Hey have you met Mr. Monsoon?”, it was difficult not to remember this time last year we were in Australia, where September’s weather tends to be somewhat better. But thirteen rides were managed, which is thirteen more than last September, a bit down on the usual monthly total but we managed a few bike less days away, for what passes as a holiday this year and not an airport queue in sight.

We did gain another rider, Paul, who used to come out with us years ago and wants assistance being reprogrammed into the world of fat tyres and enjoyable cycling, we’ll attempt to wean him away from the world of wheel fannies (“I’m not riding down that, I might damage my wheels” “It’s a tarmac road with a few potholes.”), power meters, cadence and heart rates; where nobody goes out for a ride and a laugh, it’s Training - with a capital T. 

The last two rides of September.

A Shorty With The Short One.

Another outing for La Mujerita and another run around her favourite route, which regular readers will know is from Square Corner, down to Cod Beck reservoir, up the private road to  the BT station, down Scarth Wood Moor and back to Square Corner. A few variations are possible in this short loop, to keep things interesting, although the variations in the manners of the Cod Beck dog walkers are usually more interesting. The full gamut from friendly banter, to I couldn’t hate you more if you were an extra evil reincarnation of Fred West. The day is intermittently sunny and windless, perfect day for a bit of drone flying, time for La Mujerita to be promoted from camera assistant (tripod carrier) to star performer. We rode past Chequers and onto High Lane, no sign of Speedo Man and his deckchair in the gorse bushes today - it must be the chill in the air. We carried on to where the track drops down and shot the drone up for some splendid shots of La Mujerita cruising down through the puddles, I might have managed a few more takes but the midges saw an opportunity to drain me of blood with maximum irritation, so the drone went back in the bag. 

We carried onto Scarth Wood Moor for another go, a slight breeze kept the evil little beasts away this time. Everything was going splendidly, the drone tracking La Mujerita as she rode down the paved bridleway which cuts across the moor until the drone suddenly decided it had had enough and landed itself somewhere in the heather, after telling me it was at maximum altitude, I had no idea, little drone, big sky, sixty year old eyes. Luckily, the app which controls the drone has a Find My Drone feature which shows both drone and controller on a map, which makes it a doddle to find it, especially when you can press another button to make the drone beep and flash when you get close. Anyway, a quick test fly and everything was fine. We continued across the moor and made our way to Sheepwash, climbing back up to High Lane, returning to Square Corner for a tailgate picnic. A brief outing but a grand day for it.

Maravilloso.

Sunny, mild, windless,  the sort of day Lou Reed could have written a song about it. Alone but not lonely, as they say, I left Clay Bank and hauled up the Carr Ridge steps onto Urra Moor, after twenty odd years of carrying bikes up this hill, it still hasn’t got any easier. Loads of walkers about up on Urra Moor, enjoying the autumn sunshine. I continued up to the less than inspiring highest point of the North York Moors, a trig point on a slight grassy rise amidst an ocean of heather, a bit of selfie filming later and I was on my way again. At the Incline Top, I paused again for a look at the new bit of artwork which has been placed there, a cast iron model of the place in its industrial heyday, numerous buildings, railway lines, trucks and the Drum House, where the trucks were attached for their plummet downhill. Sobering realisation dawns that I can actually remember some of the buildings when they were standing. Model thoroughly inspected, I moved on to Burton Howe and down the Old Coal Road, superb cruising in the sunshine, down the umber coloured track, blue sky and green heather a three hundred and sixty degree vista. Crossing the Cleveland Way took me to one last bit of excitement, the descent of Turkey Nab to Bank Foot Farm, a speedy way to lose three hundred and fifty feet of hard-earned ascent. From Bank Foot, it’s a steady plod back to Clay Bank, gradually regaining the lost height, although the last bit of tarmac back to the car park is anything but gradual, a leg-burning, chest-heaving finish to a ride.