Yet again the wheels of the motor industry have stopped turning, giving Keith the benefit of a free day to enjoy in the company of two of the finest mountain bikers in the north east of England, unfortunately they couldn't make it, so he had to make do with me and The Breadlad. Despite the mild weather for the time of year, Birk Brow was being strafed by a bitter wind. Luckily The Breadlad was merely minutes late and we were soon heading down the bridleway in Skelton Warren woods, above Margrove Park. We hadn't gone far when we met Guisborough woods trail building legend Ralph and Max the saluki, Ralph immediately turned us around and pointed us down some of his newest trails, thrilled that someone would be testing out his handiwork. The trail we did was pretty enjoyable, a nice change from simply hurtling (or as close to hurtling as we ever get) down the bridleway. We continued into the woods at Slapewath, for a spot of sessioning on the jumps - just like the young people, despite our combined age approaching 170 years. Quitting while we were ahead, that is before any bikes or bones were broken, we moved on to Guisborough Woods to enjoy a few leaf-covered trails, always bearing in mind we still had to climb back up Birk Brow to finish the ride. Keith reminded us last time he did this ride we finished in lashing rain, sure enough, it began to rain as we started the ascent. Obviously Keith brings the bad weather down from Sunderland, we didn’t even have a word for rain until he appeared. Some idiot suggested we try riding up the bridleway in Skelton Warren instead of the path beside the busy road, two other idiots agreed. It won’t happen again. Significantly steeper than the road option. When we reached the car park, Ralph was waiting for us with his hand-drawn trail map of the woods we’d just slogged up through, we have plenty of trails for next time.

Swainby Saunter.

Definitely turning a bit cooler today, still pleasantly dry though. I met The Breadlad in a rather busy Swainby and we immediately began climbing, up past Whorlton Castle - now unfortunately locked to prevent visitors; probably after the day The Youth used his climbing prowess to clamber onto the battlements and wander round like the ghost in Hamlet. More climbing took us through fields to Faceby and a stiff ascent to Faceby Plantation for a welcome bit of downhill to Heathwaite. One of our Fields Of Heavy Gravity awaited, followed by the Clain Wood steps, eventually we reached the ford at Sheepwash and climbed some more to High Lane. Sack the route planner, I say. In the woods above Cod Beck Reservoir we rode a few of Rod’s trails, some characterized by Rod’s signature rock ramps, to enable fallen trees to be surmounted without breaking the flow. Osmotherley’s most infamous resident - The Colonel - has been busy on a couple of trails but it looks as though his heart is not really in it, we could hop over every one of his obstacles. The last climb of the ride took us to the collection of antennas known locally as The Table And Chairs, high on Swinesty Hill, overlooking the A19. From there it was downhill, on a variety of tracks, all the way back to Swainby and The Rusty Bike cafe.

Pity It Was Only A Quicky.

Just a quickie this morning as I had to pay my respects to a departed neighbour in the afternoon. Me, Simon T. and Bingo Bob rolled out of Great Ayton on a fine autumn morning, the pristine silence only broken by the sound of my dodgy rear hub grinding and grunting like the death rattle of an overworked robot. It only has to last another three weeks such is the parlous state of stock levels for bike parts nowadays. It was only intended to be a quick trawl around some of Guissy Woods’ finest tracks but emerging on Percy Cross Rigg, it soon became apparent I had less brakes than testicles. Inspection revealed the rear brake hose had come off its mounting (the cable tie had snapped) and the tyre had rubbed through the hose, causing a hole. The remainder of the ride was done with only a front brake, needless to say, some of the steeper tracks were given a swerve in favour of trails which wouldn’t require extensive dental reconstruction if I came off. We finished up in Cliff Rigg Quarry, where Bingo Bob became Big Air Bob, actually clearing a tabletop - a feat never before recorded in the history of the Terra Trailblazers. Mild, sunny, warm, dry, we were having a grand time and then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “Bloody hell, look at the time, I have to be at the crematorium for half three.”