I Can Think Of Worse Ways To Spend A Monday.
Bereft of companions, I find myself pedaling a lone furrow through the byways of North Yorkshire on what turned out to be a magnificent spring day, warm and dry enough to dispense with a coat. And everyone else working, my heart bleeds for them. Although I don’t imagine they envied me, slogging up the Baysdale Road, hard work even with the benefit of a 52 tooth rear cassette and a tailwind. From the Kildale road to the second cattle grid, one mile and four hundred and twenty feet of ascent and my legs felt every inch of it. After the cattle grid, I rode the bridleway which goes down the moor into Baysdale, doing a bit of selfie-filming along the way, taking advantage of a dramatic backdrop of burning heather. This is a corker of a trail, which, hopefully, will never suffer from overuse because there is a big climb to reach it and a big climb out again after the fun is over, all on natural tracks, which will deter the trail centre rats. I continued down to Baysdale Abbey and rode along the valley, passing the Three Barns to join the road above Hob Hole. The track is a lot dryer than it was a few weeks ago when me and The Ginger One rode it, it’s now individual puddles rather than one continuous canal. More climbing followed, as the road hill heading for Crag Bank Wood and Percy Cross crossroads was surmounted. At the crossroads I could have turned left and headed straight back to my picnic box but not being a road rider, I rode straight up Percy Cross Rigg, all the way to the gate which leads to the open moor. The weather is still holding up, almost everyone I passed was happy and smiling and the trail around the Lonsdale Bowl is dry. Even better, it was the last hill of the ride, it’s strange how the aching quads and cramping calves become better when the end is in sight and I positively romped across the moor and down Fingerbender Bank to Gribdale. The car park was rammed, don’t they know there’s a national lockdown on? I continued to Great Ayton and had my lonely lunch on a bench by the river, savouring the sunshine and hoping for plenty more to come.
Creaking To The Creek.
Yesterday was a bit of a climb-fest, so I was quite pleased when La Mujerita was called out to work this afternoon and the planned route became a before work quickie. A quickie with as little ascent as possible, it can be done. We pedaled to Wolviston, continuing to Greatham, using the track which passes Cowpen Bewley Woodland Park, which has greatly improved since being “the stinky beck” as we knew it in my childhood, even though the sewage works is still there, swilling the contents of Billingham’s toilets about. From Greatham, we crossed the rail track and went through the remains of the old Cerebos factory - where the world famous Bisto was invented - and continued to Greatham Creek, riding a grassy dyke to the road bridge. It is low tide and all the seals are elsewhere, leaving the mud flats to wading birds and a noisy flock of black headed gulls which are repopulating one of the islands. We were able to follow the coastal path back to Port Clarence, a lot easier now sections of it are not covered in a foot of iced water. From Port Clarence, in the shadow of the mighty symbol of Teesside, the Transporter, it's only a couple of miles on flat roads to home.
Could Spring Have Sprung?
Another day when the weather is almost verging on pleasant, although we were never without the feeling things could go either way but it was coats off from the start which is always a good way to begin a ride. Me and SuperBri left Great Ayton behind and made our way to Roseberry Common via Aireyholme Farm in what could possibly be described as warmth, the continual ascent adding to our glow. We had a quick scout about Guisborough Woods, still climbing until we reached Highcliffe Nab, before some long awaited descent, down Codhill Heights to Sleddale and then it was time for more ascending, even SuperBri was beginning to question the amount of climbing. The Terra Trailblazer’s often quoted cliche was trotted out, “We’ll be fit for the summer.” Not that SuperBri needs it and to be honest, we never feel any fitter in the summer. We plodded on, up Percy Cross Rigg and over to Newton Moor where the fun began with a descent of the rocky and rutted Little Roseberry, steeply downhill in the shadow of Roseberry Topping, to Roseberry Common. We continued straight ahead, following the varied bridleway to Roseberry Lane, everything from muddy singletrack to greasy rock steps, payback for our deposit in the gravity bank. Soon after we were making another deposit, this time in the calorie bank, as we replenished essential food supplies, sitting by the river in the spring sunshine.
Another Exciting Episode.
Twenty one hours later, back in the same spot, waiting for The Breadlad to leave the New Marske Time Zone and enter Greenwich Mean Time, things couldn’t have been more different. All the surrounding hills were covered in grey clag, a steady drizzle was dampening more than our spirits and the temperature had halved. Undaunted, we sallied forth, laughing in the face of the capricious weather, waterproofs and mudguards doing their job. For a change, we rode directly to Gribdale, powering up the hill like cycling machines, or maybe, panting up the hill like nuns in a cucumber field. More panting, up to Newton Moor and around the Lonsdale Bowl, glasses off by now because they are not fitted with a set of Elton John style windscreen wipers. We made our way up and down Percy Cross Rigg, teased by glimpses of sunshine before the greyness resumed, followed by a rare (we normally ride up it) descent of The Unsuitables, down into Guisborough Woods, where we rode a carefully curated selection of trails. Most of the place is still too muddy to be fun. The Breadlad was being careful due to his back complaint, (which is different from his back passage complaint, which we can’t go into here, people might be having their tea, suffice to say, if he was a terrier, someone would have to carry a decent supply of those little bags dog walkers like leave all over the countryside) and didn’t want to push his luck by riding too far. Guisborough Woods was left behind and we slithered uphill onto Roseberry Common before slithering down again to Aireyholme Farm, the clouds finally beginning to lift and maybe even a little sun peeking through. From late spring to late winter in twenty four hours, how typically British.
As usual the route names are the Strava ride names, find us under the pseudonym Lordy Lardy.
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