The Second Bit Of 2022

 

Greyer Than A Tramp's Underwear.

It must have been one of those ‘can’t think of where to go’ days because me and The Breadlad found ourselves in Great Ayton on a grey day, which didn’t stop the most hardcore tennis club members in the world from whacking balls about the court over the road. They really will have an attempt in any type of weather. We took a circuitous route to Guisborough Woods, mainly to avoid the mud and filth for as long as possible, a thaw has set in since the pristine winter conditions at the back end of last week and all the unsurfaced tracks are squelching like week old roadkill. A steady pedal on tarmac to Kildale then a plod up The YellowBrick Road to Percy Cross Rigg gave us a chance to discuss matters ranging from the philosophical, “What do those sheep think of us?” to the scatological, “Never trust a fart.” We make QI look like Blankety Blank. A slightly draggy Codhill Heights took us to the woods and we cherry-picked a couple of trails which we thought might have held up to the weather but it was mostly a scrounge about on the fire roads, taking note of new trails to attempt in better conditions. The sun has not got his hat on today, even if it had, we wouldn’t be able to see it for the cloud, which is blanketing the surrounding hillside with a grey fug. Gradually we made our way across the woods from west to east, emerging beneath the mighty bulk of Roseberry Topping, ready to ride a long descent down the Brant Gate bridleway. Although little used by bikers, the singletrack was in poor condition, essentially a mud-filled runnel which offered the bare minimum in terms of traction or steering, using our wealth of experience, garnered from years of mountain biking, riding as though we’d never been on a bike before, leaving the path regularly but usually managing to stay upright. Eventually, we slithered our way to the bottom, bikes looking as though they had been dug out of a cesspit following a particularly virulent outbreak of dysentery. The track known as Bluebells And Garlic took us a lot more pleasantly along the bottom of the woods to join the road on the outskirts of Great Ayton and the age old Terra Trailblazer’s dilemma - butchers or bakers?

Hammer Time

Our first trip to Hamsterley Forest since prior to Storm Arwen, which battered an amount of trees down and put most of the official tracks out of action. The weather is a massive improvement on yesterday, blue sky, sunshine, no wet stuff falling out of the sky. Me, Simon T. and Bingo Bob rode the latest incarnation of the Hamsterley Hotlap, taking in the best tracks with the minimum of boring fire road slog between them, somehow it managed to be three miles longer than last time. I’m pretty sure we followed the same route and all our mileages tally, so we must have slipped in an extra bit somewhere. For those not familiar with the Hot Lap, it goes like this: start up to the skills loop entrance and keep climbing until Windybank Road is gained, 90% of the time you’ll find out how the road got its name but today it was a gentle pedal in the sunshine. A gate leads to Section 13, which leads to Boneshaker, Special K and Brain Freeze, from here, take the Grove Link to, yes, you’ve guessed - The Grove. There is an assortment of routes, all unrelenting upward, to the start of Polties Last Blast, which continues into K Line, Transmission, Accelerator and Nitrous, which, if everything has gone right, deposit you, grinning like a baboon, on the valley floor, at the back of The Grove. Ride the road back toward the visitor centre, or reverse the Grove Link if you’re feeling energetic. Begin the long drag up to the start of Pikes Teeth, again there are various ways, after Pikes Teeth, head down Rocky Road, cross the river and head for Oddsox, if you are of an especially perverse nature, Route 666 is there to be done before Oddsox. Ten minutes of climbing for twenty seconds of mediocre descending over old tree roots never seems worth the effort to us. After Oddsox, a couple of further trails complete the descending, emerging once again behind The Grove. Another jaunt down the road (or Grove Link) takes you back to the visitor centre and the ‘open seven days a week’ cafe - which was closed.

Riverside Ramblings

A wee pootle along the river - Tees, with La Mujerita, who hasn’t been on her bike for some time, mainly owing to frequent attendances in the plaster room of our local hospital. But she’s back now, ready for a bit of pedalling. Breaking her in gently, we rode from home to Newport Bridge, then followed the north bank of the river to Stockton town centre. Another grand day for January, blue sky and barely a breath of wind. We crossed over Victoria bridge, leaving Stockton and entering Thornaby, on the south bank of the river. The riding on this side is a bit more circuitous, the bankside interrupted by basins and canals, which although picturesque are completely underused. And by underused, I mean never used, it seems any development of the facilities halted as soon as the last paving slab was laid. A pair of cormorants were an exotic addition to the usual motley crew of gulls in the centre of the river, we watched one for a while, perched on a buoy, drying its wings in the sunshine, probably much to the annoyance of the few anglers who try their luck along this stretch of river. We rode past the Tees Barrage, continuing back to Newport Bridge, where we crossed the river again, pausing to look along Billingham Beck, one of the tributaries of the Tees, where a small family of seals have recently taken up residence, no sign of them today. We could have played pooh sticks from the bridge but pooh sticks is a whole different game when you turn 60 and that little cardboard package from the NHS comes through the letterbox. A steady pedal along the A19 cycle track and we were soon back in Billingham feeling quite refreshed -  well one of us anyway.

Sunbeams At Silton

First lone outing this year, it’s probably the January effect wearing off now we are halfway through the month and people realise it is a lot colder and muddier than it looks. I took myself to Swainby, yet again another day when my coat stayed in the Camelbak, even though there were still patches of ice here and there. An uneventful ride through Clain Woods to Sheepwash, then up onto High Lane and a steady pedal past Chequers, the North Yorkshire version, not the official country residence of the Prime Minister, presently Boris Johnson whose disdain of the electorate makes Marie Antoinette look like George Orwell, not he cares in the slightest, it’s all a game to him. Our Chequers is a former coaching inn, from the days when the road outside was used to drive animals to market. It’s most famous for the chequerboard sign, now preserved in a glass case, hanging on the wall. It bears what is apparently a Yorkshire joke.

“Be not in haste,

Step in and taste,

Ale tomorrow,

For nothing.”

I don’t imagine Peter Kaye will be losing any sleep. I continued to Square Corner and entered Silton Woods, where a pleasant hour or so was spent doing some selfie filming for this month’s video, which ought to yield thirty or forty seconds of footage of the top section of the old ‘official’ downhill track. As usual, hunger spurred a retreat and I followed my tyre tracks back toward Cod Beck reservoir, where I thought I might finish along one of Rod’s trails through the trees. Unfortunately most of the trees are having a bit of a lie down protest against these dirty mountain bikers shredding through their home, or more likely, Storm Arwen gave the place a bit of a shake up, metre thick tree trunks blocking the trail, just crying out for someone enterprising to build a ramp... Rod’s trail maintenance regime won’t have taken these behemoths into account and it looks like it will be a while until these trails are flowing again. My last bit of excitement was riding down the Clain Wood Steps, the steps of doom descent on Strava, another degree or so colder and they might well have been steps of doom, icy wood and an old bloke hurtling downward being a sure fire recipe for disaster. 

2022 Intro Sneak Preview

I present to you, for your delight and delectation, a cornucopia of visual enchantment. The intro for the 2022 videos. Inclusion in the intro is based on the same criteria as last year - two rides with the Terra Trailblazers in the previous twelve months. Position in the intro is, this year, based on the number of times you could be bothered to climb off the settee and onto your bike. Hence The Breadlad comes in first with forty rides and Charlie’s three rides qualify him for last position, just above The Pensioner, not a great achievement seeing as The Pensioner has been dead for five years. The Pensioner still must be included because it is a certainty he will be shredding trails in the afterlife, while complaining bitterly about everything from the price of bike parts to not getting a jug of hot water to go with his pot of tea in the cafe. If you are not featured, you know why. 2022 is the year to put down the remote control, swing a leg over the crossbar and reconnect with what mountain biking has to offer; cold, wind, mud, rain, broken bones, bruises, cuts, torn ligaments but at least you can’t catch Covid outdoors*. It has often been said we are too slow to catch cold and it looks like the same applies to mutant viruses from Chinese bats. There is now a Whatsapp group (suddenly we’ve joined the 20th century) to arrange rides and share gentle banter. Send me your mobile number if you would like to be included. 

*Disclaimer, I’m a retired process operator not a professor of virology, so what do I know but some bloke down the pub told me and he read it on the internet, so it is probably true(ish).

Clicking on the route names will take you to the Strava page for the route. Where you can marvel at how slow we are.