June has not been exactly what you might call flaming, more the intermittent sputtering of a five for a quid gas lighter from the bargain shop. Despite it being cool, cloudy and windy a lot of the month, the trails are drier than a James Bond martini. And we took advantage, ranging across the wilds of North Yorkshire on trails old and new. We even managed a few days in the Lake District, dodging showers and braving gale force winds, showing our bikes what they were designed to do.

Remainder of the month’s rides are blogged below.

Around The Rim With Rod

It sounds like some sort of new, branded toilet cleaner but in reality it is just another puerile pun because we rode the track known as The Rim. And one of only two rides this week, for various reasons which I shan’t bore you with. Me and Rod met up in Lordstones car park on a dull but dry morning, late morning to be honest, the aftermath of a crash on the A19, meant I was practically on The Breadlad’s NMT (New Marske Time) so tardy was my arrival. Taking advantage of the baked ground, we rode the whole of The Fronts, all the way to the road at Clay Bank, on this occasion arriving with all my ribs intact. Around the Garfitt Gap area, as the track approaches The Wainstones, the rooty technical climb has been bulldozed by the logging machinery, still a climb but no fun anymore. From the road, we shouldered bikes and hiked up the Carr Ridge steps onto Urra Moor, before remounting our steeds and embarking on The Rim. There isn’t a rim joke or innuendo that hasn't been done on here previously, so we’ll give it a rest now. Even at the height of the British summer, patches of mud remain around The Rim, it was a similar story on our next descent, East Bank Plantation, the grassy bog in the middle remains a brown and green slurry regardless of the weather. A long climb, passing through Beak Hills Farm brought us back to Sheepshagger Bank and The Fronts, we traversed around Cringle Moor and enjoyed a couple of enduro tracks to finish the ride.

Up The Corkscrew!

Essentially the same ride as Back On’t Moors in a previous blog except we reversed the Glaisdale Corkscrew section, ascending the terrifying descent. Getting to the corkscrew from the road in Fryupdale, started with a bit of a climb, the grassy bit to the stream is up and down anyway, so we just enjoyed riding down the ascents of the previous outing. The corkscrew itself is brutally steep, vertical in a few spots but thankfully not too long. We paused at the top to get our breath back and have a closer look at the waterfall, a trickle of water running over bright orange, ore-bearing rock, the same rock which made nearby Rosedale an industrial powerhouse just over a hundred years ago. The remainder of the route followed the same format as before; along to Trough House, the nice singletrack to the railway, around the head of Rosedale, the bit behind the pub and back to the cars. Hot and sweaty, it was even pleasant enough to sit on the grass and eat our picnic.

Another Day Successfully Wasted

Me and The Breadlad today, the inevitable frugality of a Hutton Village start, hot and sunny again. We climbed up through Guisborough Woods, across Newton Moor, dropping down to Gribdale before girding our loins for the long fireroad ascent to Captain Cook’s Monument. The Breadlad veered off into the trees during the ascent to leave a biodegradable offering on the forest floor, as his custom most rides, a gift for the moorland gods to aid in the fertilisation of the land. Well, it seems popular with flies anyway. A carefully curated selection of tracks took us back down to Gribdale, including our latest find - The Gribdale Gobbler, parts of which are out of our league at the moment and no doubt will be as long as we have a hole in the lower end of our alimentary canals. From Gribdale we climbed back onto Newton Moor and rode around the Lonsdale Bowl, arriving at the top of The Unsuitables via Percy Cross Rigg. We squeezed in another selection of downhill trails without The Breadlad having to stop and squeeze one out, which is an achievement in itself. On the trails, everything is running mighty fine at the moment, dry and fast, so we’re taking advantage while it lasts. A quick detour to the Branch Walkway cafe sorted out our calorie deficit before the short pedal back to the cars.

Around The Reservoir

La Mujerita ventured out today, while the weather is still having some semblance of summer. We set off from Swainby, eventually, once she had finished feeding the dozen or so ducklings in the stream. At Whorlton, we paused to inspect a couple of emus sharing a field with goats and their kids plus a few Shetland ponies. A proper little wildlife outing this is turning out to be. A steady pedal through fields to Faceby brought us to a grassy ascent to Faceby Plantation, gaining a bridleway through the trees which drops to the hamlet of Heathwaite on the Scugdale Road. A short tarmac section to a bridleway through a stream and La Mujerita is acquainted with one of our local Fields Of Heavy Gravity, an innocuous grassy meadow with a vague path rising up to a tree. Gears are soon shed, until there are none left and it's big effort or walk of shame time. A herd of Highland Cattle usually reside in this particular field, sporting awesome sets of horns, luckily they seem quite placid. A little further on La Mujerita is introduced to another monstrous climb, the Clain Wood steps, which is a ‘C or C’ climb, Carry Or Coronary, some people have rode it, most aspirants fail, those of us who have gained wisdom with age resort to pedestrianism. Today was no exception. A quick spin around Cod Beck Reservoir before we were again climbing, this time up tarmac to Scarth Wood Moor, familiar territory for La Mujerita, part of her favourite ride, although this is probably her least favourite bit. From the top we head back down to the road in a much more enjoyable manner, with the assistance of both gravity and wind. We finished the ride by going back down the Clain Wood steps, somewhat faster than we ascended them. A short pedal through Swainby and we are soon sitting outside the Rusty Bike cafe, watching the sun disappear behind a blanket of cloud.

Flaming June.

A genuine scorcher today, short sleeves and sunscreen and not one but two companions, I was joined by Miles and Bingo Bob, both ready and eager for a trawl round the exemplary dryness of Guisborough Woods. We rode over from Great Ayton, up through the farms to Roseberry Common, before hauling bodies and bikes up the steps to Newton Moor. And then we made our way down through the woods on a variety of trails until we arrived at <<chevRonzz>> which flowed down the hillside, through the trees, bone dry, savouring every moment of not having to worry about front wheel wash outs or buttock-drenching puddles. We climbed back up through the forest until we reached Three Drops, or at least the present incarnation of what we used to call Three Drops, it seems to have a variety of names on Strava nowadays. Again, it was in fine fettle as they say in Yorkshire. PR’s all round I think. More trails followed until we eventually pointed ourselves down the Brant Gate bridleway, skirting Roseberry Topping to join the bluebells and garlic track through Newton Woods. As it is not quite the school holidays, we decided to finish with half an hour in Cliff Rigg Quarry without the local youth sniggering at our efforts on the jumps. It looks as though the jumps have been put on steroids since our last visit, or the diggers have but some judicious swerving between the monster slopes and unthinkable gaps yielded a little circuit for those of us not yet ready for the challenge of life-changing injury.

30% Chance Of Rain

= 100% of getting soaked.

Trusting the forecast, I know, naive or what? I’m in Scaling Dam car park as the first shower hits, a brief shelter under the tailgate while it passed and I was on my way. All alone today, perhaps the others have less faith in the weather forecasts than me. I’m breaking myself into the week gently with our favourite easy ride, two superb descents and less than a thousand feet of climbing. But first there is a pretty grim mile and a bit on the moor road, where the metre and a half passing rule has been usurped by a centimetre and a half passing rule, if I carried a cloth I could give a few nearsides a polish as they draw level. Soon it was over and I was pedalling along Robin Hood’s Butts to the Sis Cross bridleway, a superb singletrack heading down the moor towards Danby, in awesome condition too, a furrow of dried peat descending through the heather. As I reached the remnants of the nominal cross, which also marks the beginning of the downhill, the rain returned, this time neither light nor brief and the coat was reluctantly dragged from its summer stowage in the bottom of the Camelbak. The trail was just as much fun in the rain, all the bits which are usually muddy, dry and firm today, perfect. A climb up the Pannierman’s Causeway took me to the Danby Beacon road, where the coat came off again, replaced with a thin windproof top because someone has forgotten to show the breeze the calendar and it still thinks it is March. A quick pause at Danby Beacon, very quick, it was freezing, before heading down Lealholm Rigg and turning into the second classic descent of the ride - Roxby Moor, again in exemplary condition, wider and rockier than Sis Cross but no less enjoyable. After the bridleway, a brief tarmac section leads to Scaling Reservoir and a pleasant ride along the dam soon brings the car park. Bike safely stowed and we are away for the true highlight of the ride - the burger van at Birk Brow.

A Break In The Space Time Continuum

We seem to have slipped back into March.

Just me and La Mujerita having a scrounge about in Guisborough Woods, having rode over from Great Ayton. As is La Mujerita’s preference (and who am I to deny a lady?) we stuck mainly to fire roads, climbing gradually through the forest until we surmounted the hideous climb beside Highcliffe Nab. I did tell her we don’t often do this one - for reasons which soon became apparent. We went downhill across Codhill Heights and continued in a gravity friendly direction down The Yellow Brick Road to Kildale, taking the road back to Great Ayton, pausing to check out a herd of deer in one of the fields beside the road. We sat beside the river to eat our Cooplands meal deals ( I know, I spoil her) on what might have been a fine day - if it was March, a poor attempt at June weather, cold wind and threatening clouds.

Sunny And Windless = Flies Everywhere.

Through the power of social media the news filtered through that the rhododendron filled tunnel, which forms part of the bridleway from Gallow Hill on the outskirts of Boltby Forest, to Atlay Bank at Kepwick has been cleared, leaving an open gully (if that’s not an oxymoron) to descend. A fine and windless day like today seemed the ideal opportunity to give it a blast. Fancying a bit of a leg stretcher, I kicked off at Sheepwash, I, not we, you’ll notice, companions seem a bit thin on the ground at the moment. Most of them are a bit thin on top too but that’s another story. The good weather has brought out the inevitable dog walkers alongside the reservoir but most of them were in good humour today, I soon left them behind as I climbed up through the forest to High Lane and made my way to the first proper climb of the ride - the Mad Mile. Four hundred feet of ascent in a mile, well half a mile really as the first bit is relatively flat. Nearing the car park at Square Corner, I could see some kind of delivery lorry trundling down the Mad Mile, the lorry passed me on the bottom track, giving me a cheery wave because I went on the grass verge to let him pass. How he had gotten up there and what he was doing I can only imagine but I bet he updated his sat nav when he got home. A mile later, the top of the climb appeared and things flattened out for a nice big sky blast along The Hambleton Drove Road. Above Kepwick, a fun bridleway peels off left and down to Gallow Hill, a junction of tracks on the outskirts of Boltby Forest, going right from here another bridleway heads downhill, firstly in rocky gully, then opening out to skirt a copse of trees before crossing moorland on a strip of grass shaved through acres of bracken. A right fork takes you to Atlay Bank, as mentioned earlier, formerly a dark and greasy tunnel through an encroaching rhododendron forest, now a gully filled with the offcuts of the clearance. It was magnificent, descending continually, the gully becoming a steeper track through more bracken until it finally finished at a gate above Kepwick. A further bridleway took me to Cowesby and tarmac to Brickshed Cottage from where a bridleway climbs back to Boltby Forest. The first part is steep and rocky, enclosed by trees, generally damp and on a windless day like today, home to every variety of biting insect in North Yorkshire, especially, judging by the itchy lumps spread about my body, horseflies. I’m sitting here now trying not to scratch and wondering if there will ever be a remake of The Elephant Man because I am guaranteed an audition. The unbelievable thing is, some of the bites have been inflicted through my clothes; what the hell sort of insects are breeding out there? Thankfully It wasn’t too long before I was back on the Drove Road, where a lack of vegetation and a slight breeze sent my minute torturers back to their dark domain. The Drove Road heads North in a fairly straight line all the way back to Sheepwash from here, including a bit of payback on the Mad Mile, descending this time and it wasn’t too long before I was back at the car unpacking my sandwich, ready for a relax by the stream. The insect population thought so too and within seconds a plague of little black flies or beetles engulfed me like paedophiles flocking to a Jeffrey Epstein party. What is it with me and insects? Why am I so attractive to them? Do I have especially tasty blood?