Lone Riding Is Resumed

Second week of January and I’m back to being a lonely boy, as every one returns to something they call “employment”, admittedly nothing but a distant memory for me. And let’s hope it stays that way. Weatherwise, it was a superb day too, sunny with a bit of a nip in the air - just as well because my coat was at home keeping one of the dining chairs safe from any sudden downpours. Another Great Ayton start, I’ll be given a council tax bill if I park there much more. A steady away pedal took me up through the farms to Roseberry Common, followed by a plod up the steps to Newton Moor; a fair few people about but nothing like the Bank Holiday madness of last Monday. I rode to The Hanging Stone, intending to ride down one of the downhill tracks into the forest but the lack of sunlight on that side of the hill dissuaded me - no coat remember. Instead Percy Cross Rigg and Sleddale were pristine in the winter sun, although there were more puddles than a meeting of Incontinents Anonymous after a free bar in the local brewery. The majority of the off-piste trails are in dire condition, slithering downfalls of wet roots, mud and doom. Exercising some restraint, I stayed (mainly) on fire roads, heading back through the forest, winter miles: summer smiles and all that roadie bollocks, until I was retracing my tyre tracks back through the farms. The allure of a Cooplands meal deal seducing me away from water and mud.

Filthier Than A Hartlepool Hen Party

The Breadlad has returned from his latest sojourn on the ski slopes of Canadia, fitting a couple of days riding into his international playboy lifestyle before he upsets Greta again by jetting off to the groomed pistes of Bulgaria. A slightly dubious forecast coupled with a complete lack of imagination saw us at Great Ayton yet again, The Breadlad must be still on MST (Mountain Standard Time) not his usual NMT (New Marske Time) because he was EARLY!, genuinely early, arriving before our usual half ten and well before his usual 10:45. Today’s route was broadly similar to the previous route but considerably more moist, the ground is so full of water it’s oozing out in a cold sweat, like a Scouser in a Job Centre. We were pushed up Codhill Heights by God’s friendly hand, in the form of a hefty tailwind. At the seat behind Highcliffe Nab, which turned out to be the highest point in today’s ride, God’s friendly hand turned into a vengeful lashing of Biblical proportions, a rain shower so vicious it was like being at the wheel of a sailing ship during a brutal tempest. Heading downhill toward the shelter of conifers, water blasting our faces, soaking through our clothing, running down our necks, turning the filthy conditions into a boiling mire of wind, mud and water. Enthusiasm quenching in proportion to the drenching, our bikes pointed themselves towards Great Ayton, eager for the warmth and sustenance of the bakery. The descent of the Brant Gate bridleway, around the side of Roseberry Topping, took longer than usual owing to conditions, which might have given veterans of the Western Front flashbacks. We made it unscathed to the more amenable track of Bluebells And Garlic, by which time the beaming sun was steaming conifers and making things look like a nice January day. Typical.

Just Playing In The Woods

Undaunted by yesterday’s dowsing, we were back into fray the next morning, a few quid poorer in the electric department following some intensive washing and drying of kit. Swainby today for a change and joined by Simon T. for the third time this year, he’s been on 50% of this year’s rides, let’s see how long he can keep that up. The Breadlad is back on NMT (New Marske Time), rolling into town his usual 15 minutes behind everyone else. Pleasantly bright today but roads awash with standing water and fields soggier than wet blotting paper. We made our way to Faceby Woods and had a play on the trails, exploring a little, finding a bunch of stuff new to us, a few good jumps and berms, the trail fairies have been putting in a bit of overtime by the look of things. We spent an inordinate amount of time playing in the woods, doing runs, pushing back up and trying things again, just like the teenagers we are in our own minds, rather than three gadgies on the verge of middle-age. Quitting with only minor injuries we headed across to the other side of the Scugdale valley, to ride a trail which has been on the radar for a good while, it turned out to be phenomenal, berms all the way down the hillside. The downside being we had to hike-a-bike up the Clain Wood steps to reach the trail, never fun at the best of times - and then we hiked it all again to introduce Simon to Fifty Shades Of Brown, another fun trail which was a nice finish to the ride. Despite our lack of distance, we had a grand time and still put in a decent amount of climbing - it’s all about the smiles not the miles. Coffee and cake in the Rusty Bike cafe rounded the day off nicely as we said goodbye to The Breadlad for another couple of weeks as he straps his planks on and flings himself down some Bulgarian hillsides.