The Calm Before The Storm(s)

Still pretty windy.

It seems as though we're in for a bit of a battering, weather-wise, as two storms worthy of nomenclature are set to inflict biblical wind and rain upon us. Like a suspicious wife following her husband to work, Storm Eunice is to follow Storm Dudley, giving fencers, roofers and arborists a nice winter bonus. Following a full day of rain yesterday (Monday), Great Ayton was bright and breezy this morning, only the lingering puddles evidence of hours of precipitation. It looks as though everyone else has gone in for a bit of premature hatch battening, there was less interest in riding today than there is in the latest plot of Eastenders. Figuring the trails wouldn’t be in the best condition, a long road warm up seemed in order, all the way to Kildale, continuing to Percy Cross Rigg and down to Sleddale, saying adios to tarmac for an(other) ascent of Codhill Heights. After 9 miles and a thousand feet of ascent, I stopped for my first rest, a pace as alien to a Terra Trailblazer as telling the truth is to Andrew The Sweaty Nonce. Now it was time to find out how much the trails in Guisborough Woods had suffered from the past few days’ weather. Things were pretty dire it must be said, mainly mud with a side order of extra mud, specifically imported to fulfil the North Yorkshire mud quota. The few trails attempted all involved some degree of rider/ground interfacing and a predictable amount of profanity; despite Destructive Dudley being a few hours away, trees were swaying and creaking, shouting into the wind as their shallow roots began to lose grip in the wet soil. Not that keen on becoming the meat on a conifer kebab, I took myself out of the danger zone and headed up to the breezy but relatively tree-free Roseberry Common. Still feeling quite fresh, I shouldered the bike and trudged up the steps to Newton Moor, rather than pointing the bike straight down to AireyHolme Farm. A quick spin along Newton Moor, down Fingerbender Bank and along to Gribdale completed the ride, leaving only tarmac between me and the calorific delights of Great Ayton.

Staying Low To Avoid The Wind.

Didn’t avoid the rain though.

Storm Dudley is heading this way, an unstoppable force of nature, operation media doomwatch is well underway, post-apocalyptic dystopia beckons for those who make it through to tomorrow morning. Imagine if we lived somewhere which has real storms and hurricanes, the Daily Express would run out of superlatives. Me and La Mujerita had ourselves a little pedal along the river, the wind was already showing us who is boss. We rode into a headwind, as we headed west along the riverside cycle track, passing under the A19 flyover gave a perfect illustration of the canyon effect, where wind force increases as it is funnelled between the supporting pillars. It was like pedalling through an invisible force field. After crossing the river via the Millennium Bridge, we were treated to a tailwind, which came with an extra treat of rain. A few squally showers to stop us having too much fun. Our wind-assisted journey continued all the way back to Newport Bridge, where we left the river behind us and continued home, arriving just in time to get the bikes locked away before Dudley arrived.

The Calm Between The Storms

Storm Dudley did his worst last night, leaving the usual trail of fallen trees and trashed fences. We are in a lull until Dudley’s big sister Eunice arrives tonight, a very windy lull but a lull nonetheless. Forty to fifty mile an hour winds were being predicted for today, so what better time to be blown across Urra Moor by a vicious tailwind? By the time me and The Breadlad arrived at Ingleby Greenhow car park, the forecast had downgraded the wind speed by half, the sun was shining and the only problem was deciding how many layers to wear. Pedalling up the road to Clay Bank, it dawned on The Breadlad that we were embarking on the infamous ‘1200 foot start’, which was true but the expectation of being blown up a fair few of those twelve hundred feet kept our spirits up. Everything went to plan and it wasn’t too long before we were at Round Hill, as everyone ought to know by now, the highest point on the North York Moors. It turned out, The Breadlad had never actually been to the trig point, a situation soon rectified; the excitement was all too much for his overactive bowels and he disappeared into the heather, thankfully downwind, to use the facilities and lose a little biodegradable part of himself to the North York Moors. Someday, aeons in the future, archaeologists will be baffled by the curious coprolites they keep finding dotted about the moors, too large for sheep but too small for bears.

Near the Incline top, we encountered the only other person we had seen all day, some gadgie who had carried a stove plus windshield, water, milk, tea and sugar, just so he could have a brew in a windblown cutting on a redundant railway track. I’d rather carry a bank card and go to a cafe. Attempting to stay as mud free as possible, we stayed on the wide, sandy tracks across the moor, following the Cleveland Way all the way to the Baysdale road, which includes the gravel double-track from Tidy Brown Hill to the road. Still one of my favourite tracks on the moors, it felt like the Mad Mile today with the wind directly behind us, I thought I was on for a PB but Strava decided otherwise; not that I’d have any faith in the accuracy of Strava - or GPS’s in general. Until the technology is used to time world championships and the Olympics it can’t be taken seriously, which will come as a blow to all the KOM collectors. Coleson Banks was our chosen descent, a bit of revenge for the gruesome ascent we did a few weeks ago, it is starting to get a bit rutty again, as the ‘One life: live it’ brigade take advantage of the resurfacing. I wonder how long it will be before the ruts go back to being so deep you could hide an elephant or two? The last section, through fields of sheep, to the road at Battersby was a stinking miasma of ovine ordure, mud and water, luckily I had the sense to attach my mudguard before we set off. A bit of road pedalling soon had us back Ingleby Greenhow and our little wooden shed outside the cafe.