Well, Hello Mr. Blue Sky.

The first day of March turned out to be a considerably better day than the last day of February, a crisp day with a fresh wind and perfect blue sky. I met Miles at Hutton Village - Guisborough’s answer to Bedburn at Hamsterley, where people go to avoid parking charges. Totally justified in the case of Guisborough because money to facilitate mountain biking in the woods was diverted years ago, if it wasn’t for the trail pixies there would be no trails to ride. The perfect weather hasn’t done anything to alleviate the mud though, as we soon found, slogging our way up past the Blue Lake into the woods. Mainly on fire roads, we made our way through the forest, with the odd little diversion onto less muddy tracks, until we reached Roseberry Common and hauled our bikes up the steps onto Newton Moor. A little drier out on the open moor, we took a little used single track to the Lonsdale Bowl, continuing to Percy Cross Rigg, tyres hitting tarmac for the first time since we left Hutton Village. Down to Sleddale was followed by up Codhill Heights, arriving at the gate behind Highcliffe Nab, where Miles suggested a ride down the paved Cleveland Way track, so off we popped, as the saying goes, there was nobody else on the whole path, which let us have a speedy ride down the wet stones, until we reached the gate. The trail climbs up from here, eventually joining Percy Cross Rigg where it meets the top of The Unsuitables. Miles was under a time constraint and it was time for him to start heading in the direction of home - not too arduous when he lives only a couple of hundred metres from the woods - we hung a right and enjoyed the dubious pleasures of The Secret Path, rocks, roots, moss and mud, the final downhill to the fire road a mud-filled chute with the potential for an embarrassing plunge to said fire road. But we are Terra Trailblazers, skills honed by many years of riding in crap conditions, a muddy slope holds no fears for us, eyes shut, brakes on, sliding, unscathed onto the fire road. We rode to The Chute and enjoyed its latest incarnation, there have been many changes over the past twenty years but generally for the better. Miles headed home from the bottom, I could have went the opposite way and been back at the car in two minutes but that would have been too easy (and a waste of a splendid day), I slogged up the fire road beside The Chute, back into the forest and treated myself to a couple more trails before returning to the car.

More Drag Than My Purple Sequinned Frock.

Alone today, first solo ride this month, I took myself off to Lordstones for a change, figuring the wide open moors might be drier than the woods. A cool day, light cloud and a blustery wind but pleasant enough to leave the coat in the bag. I was soon warm, pedalling up the track which used to lead to the gliding club, turning off at the singletrack bridleway and heading across the moor, rejoining the broad, sandy track to enjoy the first bit of downhill, to Brian’s Pond. More climbing followed, up Barker’s Ridge, until things levelled out on the moor top, more sandy trackery took me to Cock Howe, usually the start of the awesome Trennet Bank descent, or alternatively the Head House singletrack. Both given a swerve today in favour of width and dryness, relatively speaking. I followed what are essentially unsurfaced roads across the moor, deciding on a whim to check out the new Bilsdale Transmitter masts, erected after the previous behemoth caught fire and was eventually demolished. It turns out instead of one giant mast there are now three smaller ones scattered about the heather, the old mast is laid in the compound, broken into sections, ready for the scrap men. Good job they don’t use horses and carts anymore, they’d struggle on the access road - as any of the idiots who have ever rode up it will testify. And I have been one of those idiots. I made my way back across the moor, then dropped down to the abandoned farm of Head House, now a store for estate management, where I stopped to replace some calories. There is a picture in one of Harry Mead’s North York Moors books of this house when it was occupied, it is hard to believe it ever was, miles from the nearest village, no running water, no electricity, no sewerage, it must have been a hard life. The atypical wind direction today meant I had a tail wind for the climb up to Osmotherley Stones, which ought to have made things much more pleasurable, the sandy track was slightly damp and draggier than a night out with Ru Paul, it was like riding through treacle. Eventually the top of Barker’s Ridge was regained and it was time for a bit of payback from the gravity bank, returning to Brian’s Pond. More draggy tracks led me to the summit of Carlton Bank, a quick pause to take in the view before heading along a nicely paved path following the edge of the hill before turning back onto the moor for a last downhill blast to Lordstones.

Fire Roads in The Rain.

It takes a special sort of person to be out on a day like today.

No Russians in sight Captain.

The weather forecast was predictably accurate today, as it always is when we are in for bad weather; light rain it said and light rain is what was delivered, every inch of the way. It goes without saying, it was a lone ride and even I had been prevaricating before I discovered my alternative day would undoubtedly involve supermarkets and tedium. So it was big boy (waterproof) pants on and into the wide, grey yonder I went. A Great Ayton start, up through the farms, Roseberry Common, Guisborough Woods, the trails were atrocious, the fire roads rideable, a few soggy miles around the forest then I headed out along Percy Cross Rigg, stopping at the old wartime building on the top to look out for invading Russians approaching Redcar from the North Sea. There were none; the lemon top supply chain remains unbroken - for now. Continuing along Percy Cross Rigg, I dropped down to Kildale on the Yellowbrick Road, to finish the ride with a few cheeky downhill road miles back to Great Ayton.