Islands In The Stream.
Today it wasn’t actually raining, not every minute of the day anyway but there is a lot of water about, draining off the hills, forming puddles, rivulets, streamlets where previously none existed. It is fair to say things are a bit moist. In a fit of uncharacteristic masochism, I rode from Great Ayton to Captain Cook’s Monument, 800 feet of ascent, plodding steadily upward until, finally, I could rest beside the monument, taking in the view and waiting for the bank of cloud blocking the sun to blow away and let Roseberry Topping be illuminated in some perfect winter sunshine. Shame I only have a GoPro with me to photograph it, three biking cameras have bit the dust this year and I am still working on sourcing a replacement. From the monument, I slithered back down to Gribdale on waterlogged trails, mud, wet roots and puddles, the trilogy of tragedy in winter riding. From Gribdale, a bit of steep uphill pedalling got me onto Newton Moor and along to Guisborough Woods where I hunted around for dry(ish) trails, like looking for islands in the streams. A few were attempted before a late lunch beckoned.
Joyride.
This was to be the Xmas toastie ride with me and a couple of Terra Trailblazers irregulars having a scrounge about Guisborough Woods, filling in the time before we could go for a pigs in blankets toastie. Except we had managed to pick the day when tree felling around Pinchinthorpe Visitor Centre meant most of the car park, the visitor centre and more crucially, the cafe were all closed. Plus access into the woods was blocked. A bit of bad planning on somebody’s part. We regrouped at Great Ayton, me, Bingo Bob and The Cruncher, all still eager to take advantage of the pleasant weather. We did a usual Great Ayton start, up through the farms to Roseberry Common and into Guisborough Woods, a clear blue sky and amenable temperatures meant it was pleasant for the end of December. Sticking mostly to fire roads we pedalled up through the woods, climbing gradually until we were below Highcliffe Nab, continuing eastward, almost to the edge of the woods before turning to return on the top track until we reached the summit of Highcliffe Nab. Down below us, the town of Guisborough and right on the edge of the woods, Miles’ house, where he was probably working, gazing wistfully at the sunlit moors, while we were out having fun above him. From here, the route began (thankfully) to take on more of a downhill character, starting with the awesome double track descent of Codhill Heights, to Percy Cross Rigg, then the Lonsdale Bowl, followed by the ruts and rocks of Fingerbender Bank, we all made it unscathed, not a finger bent, down to Gribdale. Down the road and back through Fletcher’s Farm (closed because it is a Tuesday) we arrived in Great Ayton looking for some festive fodder. The Buck Inn looked promising, mainly because it was over the road from our parking spot. Turkey ciabattas with gravy and roast potatoes were the very thing for seasonal sustenance, washed down with a rehydrating pint of shandy.
Blowin' In The WInd.
Xmas ride number 2. Breaking the habit of a lifetime, I went riding on a weekend, mingling with day people, those poor unfortunate souls constrained by the Monday to Friday, nine to five life. Except that's not really a life. We had one shift worker, The Breadlad, who is freshly returned from one of his planet-raping holidays, pausing briefly on home soil prior to aiding in the combustion of another few thousand litres of jet fuel in the name of his enjoyment. Me, SuperBri, The Youth, Rod and the aforementioned Breadlad all met up in a blustery car park at the west end of Scaling reservoir, for assorted reasons, some of us arrived later than The Breadlad, an almost unprecedented occurrence in Terra Trailblazers’ history. We set off, heading into the wind along a quieter than usual moor road, reaching the Danby turn off after just over a mile, regulars will recognise this as the start of our famous Scaling Dam easy route, although it didn’t feel like it as we battled the westerly. Our corner of the North East has suffered more than its fair share of water from the sky and we didn’t have high hopes for Robin Hood’s Butts or the Sis Cross track but apart from a few puddles and some slippery mud they weren’t too bad. Riding narrow singletrack with a side wind wasn’t ideal for PB Strava times but the comedy moments of people crashing off into the heather were worth it. The wind became our ally climbing to Danby Beacon, pushing us from Clitherbecks. At the beacon we sought shelter from the gusts to have a snack while The Breadlad regaled us with tales from his adventures in the fleshpots of - Disney World. Obviously the height restrictions meant missing some of the rides but he still had a good time. Further wind assisted riding gave us a speedy traverse of Roxby Moor, SuperBri storming through the heather like a man freshly released from the confines of an educational establishment, leaving even The Youth trailing behind him, although, to be fair, The Youth gets out mountain biking about as often as Rose West nowadays. Back at Scaling Reservoir, a mere mile along the grassy top of the dam stood between us and a festive feast, unfortunately a mile into a headwind, a wind which had managed to increase in magnitude since we set off this morning. Imagine riding a bike through a sea of treacle while a tug of war team of salad-dodging chubsters attempt to pull you backwards and you’ll get the idea. It was all worth it when we were sat in the pub over the road, tucking into calorific delights from the festive menu.
The End
A less than ideal forecast for my last ride of the year meant most of the regulars were as unenthusiastic as a bunch of blokes en-route to a vasectomy performed by Chris McCausland. And it is a Saturday again. Only Miles and his new electric mountain bike were energised enough to consider a slither about some cold, damp woods, in an icy wind straight from the bowels of some Norse version of Hell and a prediction of heavy rain. We left Miles’ street and rode to the top of The Unsuitables, a dozen words which gloss over completely the lung-searing, leg-burning, panting it took to get there. Well, for one of us anyway. Miles had a bit of assistance from Billy Bosch, The Battery Boy. We continued up Percy Cross RIgg, pausing at the top for a photo opportunity, before hurtling down the other side to the gate. Hurtling being completely subjective of course, one man’s hurtle might be another man’s pootle. Anyway, we were going straight into a headwind, so hurtling might be a bit of an exaggeration. After riding around the Lonsdale Bowl and down Fingerbender Bank, we gained a tailwind for the pedal along Newton Moor, back to the shelter of Guisborough Woods. Miles spent a little time appreciating the subtleties and line choices of Les’s One, while I just blundered down, letting the suspension do the work, as I have done for years. It was heartening to see so many groups of youngsters in the forest, having a few hours away from technology to continue the old age tradition of messing about on bikes in the woods. Miles, being of the Southern persuasion, was getting cold, so we headed back along the bottom track to his house in Guisborough. Last ride of the year over, enjoyable despite wind and water and here’s to many more rides during 2024. Have a good one and remember, a hangover isn’t a valid excuse to stay off the bike.
Clicking on the route names will take you to the Strava page for the route. Where you can marvel at how slow we are.
