A pretty standard blast out to do the awesome Tripsdale descent, not a bad day for it, although there is beginning to be a bit of a chill in the air, autumn is sneaking its way in, crawling over summer, like a slowly encroaching tide of brown leaves and early darkness. The time of year when the battery people return to their little coops and cabin up until spring and the free range people carry on regardless. And let’s face it, anyone who has seen our riding would say it is like a Carry On film, Carry On Panting, or maybe Carry On Over The Handlebars. The Tripsdale track was very dry today, loose, rocky and sandy, like that other place we used to ride. Where was that? Oh yes, Spain. Can’t wait to get back there again, hopefully it won’t be long. The climb after the descent was also dry and loose, not to mention steep but it has to be done. I finished down Jackson’s Bank, which had a few claggy bits, it seems to have begun taking some drainage from somewhere, there is a boggy section which never used to be there. Probably the IRA (Irate Ramblers Association) have been out with their hosepipes again.
Persistent Permeating Precipitation.
The nice, easy Scaling Dam ride, the one with less than than 800’ of ascent and two superb singletracks, was the objective for today. Approaching Scaling Dam, the cloud about level with the moor road, the idea was shelved as it involves a mile or so riding on this road, in poor visibility with no lights. I parked up at the Danby end of Robin Hood’s Butts instead, a gusty northerly buffeting the car, bringing in a persistent drizzle, the kind which finds its way through every gap, leaving you soaked. Waterproofs were donned for the first time in a while and I headed along the track to the Sis Cross turn. Heading for the cross on greasy singletrack, the wind was behind me, for a few minutes at least, I was in an oasis of calm, no views to speak of unless cloud and heather count. Sis Cross, Danby Beacon, Roxby Moor, then normally Scaling Reservoir and back to the car. Visibility had improved marginally but I still didn’t fancy taking my chances with the moor road traffic. So I got to climb The Slagbag in the rain, it might only be 100 feet of ascent but it’s packed into a tenth of a mile. Which, according to my shaky maths, SuperBri will have to check it, comes in at 19%, not even that steep, it must be the loose rock and wet grass which make it so difficult. A standard finish, via Oakley Walls and the gravel extravaganza of the Clitherbeck track soon had me back at the car, digging the emergency dry clothes out of the boot and swapping them for the sodden ones clinging to my body. I looked as though I’d been swimming, not cycling.
The Breadlad found a window in his international playboy lifestyle to join me for a ride in what promises to be an otherwise lonely week, a week which would see me have slightly less companions than a bloke defusing an unexploded bomb. Another go at what is becoming a pretty standard route nowadays, from Danby, over Ainthorpe Rigg to The Yorkshire Cycle Hub, an hour or so playing on the track, then a return via the Crag Farm bridleway, up Oakley Walls, Citherbeck and down The Lord’s Turnpike (The Flying Bees too us) into Danby for the cafe. The Breadlad reprised his alter-ego, Airtime Andy, on the cycle hub trail, launching off all but the biggest jumps. In common with my last visit, we had some serious wind which gave us a beasting outside the shelter of the trees. Sessioning, as us youngsters call it, attempting jumps and lines until they are fast and smooth, takes up a lot of time and it was a pretty late finish again (obviously not too late for the cafe) but it’s not as if some of us don’t have plenty of time to waste. And what better way to waste it than dicking about on bikes. For the first time ever, my Garmin GPS froze and I had to piggyback off The Breadlad’s Strava, which means, when you click on the route name, you won’t see my multitude of KOM’s and PB’s for this ride.
Dry, sunny, cool. Great Ayton, which means I can’t think of anywhere else to go. Headed directly up to Roseberry Common and into Guisborough Woods to fling myself down a few trails, slightly greasy trails but they haven’t reached the brown porridge consistency we know and love quite yet. The tree felling east of Highcliffe Nab is continuing, fresh timber stacks are appearing at sides of the fire roads; above the Cleveland Way junction, near Highcliffe, the ground has been brutalized by heavy machinery, the tracks where the loggers go up and down the hillside are getting deeper as the ground gets softer. It will be like The Somme once the proper bad weather arrives, there might even be a football game between British and German troops on Christmas Day. Or perhaps the trenches will be manned by foot soldiers of the IRA (Irate Ramblers Association), with map case shields and walking pole swords ready to repel the hordes of barbarian mountain bikers threatening to lay waste to THEIR moors. Moving out to open moorland, a descent of Codhill Heights was followed by a spin around the Lonsdale Bowl to Gribdale, from where I headed for Fletcher’s Farm shop, for a pasty, a drink and a chat with some rather ripe smelling goats.
Clicking on the route names will take you to the Strava page for the route. Where you can marvel at how slow we are.
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