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October seems to be the new April, showers for the most part, a few days of excessive rain and the odd blue sky day. Windy too for a few of the rides, giving the trees a helping hand to shed their leaves. Despite the weather fifteen rides occurred, the occasional ones with companions but mainly ploughing my lonely furrow across the North York Moors while everyone else worked or watched TV or did whatever they do instead of riding bikes in the cold and wet. SuperBri is having a lie down for a while after being fitted with a bionic ankle by the NHS and The Breadlad has resumed his international playboy lifestyle, damp mud has been eschewed in favour of Continental sand and Mediterranean blue skies replace threatening grey clouds. Warmth, relaxation, cheap beer; where’s the fun in that? He’ll be laid on a sunbed in his budgie-smugglers, yearning to be pedaling into the teeth of a North Easterly wind which is lashing frigid rain in from the North Sea, as his tyres fight for traction through the glutinous slop the trails have become. Desires unsated he drowns his sorrows in San Miguel and tapas while we battle through the autumn leaves.

Rain Like Herpes...

just when you think it's gone away, it comes back again.

When I arrived in Great ayton on this lovely morning there was barely a parking space left down by the river. It’s half term, the sun is out the sky is blue, there’s not a cloud to spoil the view, which is how it was for just about the time it took to get my bike off the roof rack, as soon as Five Ten hit Crank Brother, the sky was the colour of a tramp’s underpants and more than enthusiasm was being dampened. A quick scout about Guisborough Woods, then out across Codhill Heights, around the Lonsdale Bowl to Gribdale before the gruesome pedal up to Captain Cook’s Monument. A quick breather between showers and back down the other side of Easby Moor, on the rocky descent, heading back to Great Ayton on the lower track, in one of the brief windows of usability, the time between head height bracken and sloppy mud. Might have left it a bit too late, the bracken has died off but the mud is returning. A last bit of excitement, down the Dyke’s Lane Roots, scene of my first proper mountain bike dismount more than twenty years ago, when enthusiasm outweighed ability and my (helmetless) head narrowly missed being caved in against the trunk of centuries old oak tree. Now I always wear a helmet and enthusiasm and ability are equal now - equally poor. Then it was back to Great Ayton, where a sudden sunny interval allowed me to have a snack before the rain returned.

The 1200 Foot Start

It was definitely one of those ‘seemed like a good idea laid in bed’ moments. Starting from Ingleby Greenhow, pedaling up to Clay Bank, then continuing up onto Urra Moor and Round Hill, highest point in the North York Moors, 454 metres above sea level. The cloud ceiling was somewhat lower, blanketing the moor tops all around me. The cunning plan basically relied on the fact, once I gained the high point, the wind would be behind me. Which is all very well except for the twelve hundred feet of climbing, into a headwind. To cut a long story short, the trig point at Round Hill was barely visible, cocooned in a moist grey shroud which even the howling wind couldn’t dissipate. Once the unpleasantness of the ascent was expunged from my memory, the remainder of the plan worked a treat. Round Hill to Bloworth Crossing, Bloworth to Burton Howe, down the Old Coal Road and back across to the Cleveland Way, wind assisted the whole way. I finished the ride down Coleson Banks, the recent resurfacing beginning to return to ruts courtesy of the Wobbly-Heads in their 4x4’s.

I just blew in from the Windy City

The Windy City is mighty purty.

Like the worst ever Doris Day tribute, I was a bearded drag version of Calamity Jane and The Breadlad playing the part of Wild Bill Itchycock, we set out to ride my classic ‘easiest route on the moors’. The one with only 750 feet of climbing and two superb singletracks. Things didn’t seem too bad in the sheltered alcoves of Scaling Dam car park, even on the mile of moor road the wind didn’t seem too bad, mainly because we were too worried about surviving the drivers who were using us to hone their close passing skills. Thanks for that, especially the driver in the left hand drive wagon who was so close we could smell his armpits. The Sis Cross singletrack was challenging as the gusty wind pushed us sideways but like proper troupers we showed it who was boss. Danby Beacon is usually an NSP (Natural Stopping Point) but today we could barely stand up as the wind blasted across the moor so it was straight onto the Roxby Moor singletrack, where we had a tailwind shoving us along. The Breadlad was away like a rocket, earning himself a wind-assisted PR on Strava while I followed behind at a more circumspect pace. We finished along the dam at Scaling reservoir, the wind coming at us sideways, raising whitecaps on the surface of the water. Thankfully, the burger van at Birk Brow hadn’t blown away and we enjoyed our post-ride cheeseburgers, using our cars as windbreaks.