The First Bit Of October.
First ride of the month was a return to Hamsterley Forest, first time for me since the unfortunate rocks/rib interface back in June. Beginning with Section 13, the initial couple of jumps were taken with some trepidation but I was soon in the swing of things, both wheels definitely left the floor at some point, I’m certain. I even managed a brace of companions for that ride, the dynamic duo of Simon T. and Keith, in contrast to the next three outings when fellow riders were less prevalent than pork pies at a bar mitzvah. There is even a suggestion that the summer which never happened might put in a appearance during the first couple of weeks of October, although they are also saying we’ll have snow for Halloween. By they, I of course mean, the press, who are to weather forecasting what the Khmer Rouge was to human rights. For the other rides I wandered lonely as a cloud, that floats o’er vales and hills. Hold on a cotton-picking minute, I’ve just had a great idea for a poem...
Searching For Postdiluvian Dryness
Yesterday it rained, a lot, over the whole country, flash floods, travel disruption, a report that more than a hundred cubic metres per second of water would be passing over the Tees Barrage by this morning. The low lying towns on the banks of the river had the flood gates closed in anticipation. I looked for the dry bits, well-drained tracks around Cod beck reservoir and beyond. There was even a ride up the Mad Mile just for the fun of riding back down again.
More Drag Than A Night Out With Ru Paul
The Bilsdale Mast, scene of our brush with authority a few weeks ago, the day after it caught fire and pitched thousands of people into perpetual turmoil when the telly went off and they had to think of something else to do with their time, was demolished yesterday. It was done with the minimum of publicity because there will always be some idiots who turn up unannounced and uninvited in the exclusion zone. They have obviously learnt a lot from our last visit, where their system was tested and found lacking. And not a word of thanks. (Excluded From The Exclusion Zone - August 2021). Today I thought a ride out to assess the damage might be a decent leg-stretcher. The sandy tracks which criss-cross the moors are especially sandy and damp today, combined with a headwind meant everything was hard work today, Arnesgill Ridge, travelling upward back toward Carlton Bank, was like pedalling a cycle rickshaw full of chubsters to Weightwatchers via KFC. On the plus side, there were some puddles to play in. The main objective was a failure, the cloud was so low it was impossible to see the remains of the mast, or indeed the buildings around it - not without crossing the barrier anyway. It looks as though they have had a little trip to Arco, lashed out on some barriers and made a proper job of keeping out idiots.
Third and final ride of the week and I’m pedalling around the hills of North Yorkshire with that Andrew Gold song playing in my head - Lonely Boy. It appears the enthusiastic are at work and those not at work are unenthusiastic - their loss because today was one of those perfect days which sometimes sneak in with the falling leaves and shorter days. Sunshine and light winds all day long. The trails in Guisborough Woods are still suffering from the recent deluges but the more open ones are drying up nicely.
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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