John's Easy Route

For the first time in a while, I gained some companionship on my rides. SuperBri has been released back into the community courtesy of half term and was ready, willing and able - always a good combination - to sample the trails and trials of the North York Moors. Today’s route was pre chosen as a gentle start to the week and he was happy to come along. A pleasant ride taking in a couple of moorland classics on the way, marred only by a mile and a quarter on the A171 moor road from Scaling Dam to start the ride. I’ve worn underwear with more space than some of the drivers were prepared to give us, speeding past with the thickness of a couple of layers of paint between their crumple zone, safety cage, death chariots and our handlebars. Thankfully we soon turned off onto the Danby road, much quieter, mainly us, sheep and curlews intent on distracting us away from their chicks. We headed off road at Robin Hood’s Butts and continued to the small cairn and wooden post marking the Sis Cross bridleway. Everything is bone dry for once, it hasn’t rained for some time now but a persistent Northerly wind is bringing in cloud from the sea, keeping the temperature well below the seasonal average while the rest of the country (allegedly) basks in sunshine. When it is dry, like today, the SIs Cross track is as fine a piece of singletrack as can be found anywhere, a thin line cutting across a heather moor, with small gully crossings to keep things interesting. Despite it being half term, there was barely a soul about and we had an uninterrupted ride to the road above Danby, where we switched tracks onto the Pannierman’s Causeway, climbing gently on an ancient paved trod to more tarmac, which led us to Danby Beacon. Our stop at the beacon was brief, the wind blowing unhindered straight from the North Sea, made it a chilly place to hang about. And besides, we had the pure pleasure of Roxby Moor to look forward to. It was running a treat, dry and firm, Scaling reservoir glinting like a blue jewel in the distance. Our ride was exhilarating, two gentlemen on the verge of middle age, neck and neck on a double track through the heather, XC cycling gods, in our imaginations anyway. A short bit of tarmac took us to Scaling Dam for a scenic ride along the water’s edge back to the car park.

Rosedale Five Looper

Despite it being the last day of May, the car park at Blakey Bank top was as grim as anything February could manage. The north east is suffering from a persistent NE wind which is bringing in cool air and clouds. Heading inland to Rosedale seemed a sensible idea but in reality was as sensible as watching the news when your interest in Philip Schofield is limited to “who is he?” Apparently if you are in showbusiness and shag a colleague, you have to lose your job. Good thing that doesn’t happen in the real world, there would be more people getting fired than we could count. Anyway, back to mountain biking, we capitulated immediately and put on our coats against the bitter wind, even before we had taken the bikes off the car. Five loops, even though the first one is not strictly a loop, a bridleway which forms the hypotenuse of a two road triangle, narrow singletrack across a heather moor, down at first, before a gradual climb back to road level. We cross the road to meet up with Fat Betty, not a curvaceous lady but an ancient stone cross (more information can be found here ). Another short but sweet singletrack leads to Castleton Rigg, where we take tarmac back to Fat Betty, shunning her attractions and heading along Knott Road for loop number three, George Gap Causeway, a partially paved, ancient ‘trod’ which cuts over West Gill Head to the Cut Road across Fryup Head. Still a few boggy patches to contend with but overall in much better condition than usual. We know the Cut Road as theTrough House track, wide, gravel track, with magnificent views along the valley of Fryupdale. For those who want to drop directly into the valley, there is the Glaisdale Corkscrew, an increasingly technical descent with skydiving potential for the unwary. It wasn’t on our route today, we turned left and rode past Trough House, back to tarmac for more looping. The highlight of the ride was loop number four, a long singletrack bridleway dropping down to the former Rosedale railway, details are a bit vague here because it would be a shame for it to be become overused, although its relative remoteness appears to deter most of the trail centre, weekend warriors. We continued around the head of Rosedale on the rail bed, easy riding in a marvellous setting, a few relics from the ironstone mining industry still remain, still standing almost a century since the mines closed. We made our way up to The Lion Inn for loop number five, a short descent around the back of the pub to another section of rail bed, leading easily back to our parking spot. A typically British picnic ensued, coats, hats and gloves on, trying to shelter from the wind behind the car but not admitting defeat by eating in the car.

Welcome To Flaming June...

There is a rumour going round that Philip Schofield is moving to Stockton on Tees (which is the next town to us) and buying a pub on the Fairfield housing estate called The Rimswell. I’m sure there’s no truth in it. Meanwhile me and SuperBri were once again wondering what is happening with the weather, as we shiver in the cold grey drizzle besieging Great Ayton. The first of June, you could have fooled us. We did the two farms start, climbing gradually to Roseberry Common, then hiked up the steps to Newton Moor. A brief pause to get our breath back, then we rode across the moor to Guisborough Woods, where we embarked on a carefully curated selection of the forest’s finest trails. Mainly dry too, except for the odd muddy patch to keep us on our toes. Eventually we found ourselves back at Roseberry Common, shouldering the bikes again, plodding up a zig zag bridleway which leads to the summit of Roseberry Topping, peeling off to the left about half way up to ride down a track known as Clatter And Bang, rocky singletrack which becomes a set off paved steps lower down, hence the name. We paused at the shooting box, a stone folly with a fine view of Roseberry Topping, serving no practical purpose, built many years ago by some rich gadgy just because he could. A pleasant blast through the bluebells took us back to Great Ayton and the epicurean delights of the butchers shop, which we sat and ate by the river in virtual isolation, usually thronged with day trippers and dog walkers at this time of day, could be the weather or they’re probably glued to their televisions as the front page drama of the Schofield saga unfolds. Apparently Holly Willoughbooby is hurt and upset because she was lied to. Bless her, she’ll probably need counselling to get over the trauma. But what would I know, I’ve genuinely never seen a breakfast television programme in my life, the only thing I’m switching on at that time in the morning is the coffee maker.