Smoke From A Distant Fire

“Well, I’m going down to Rosedale...” as Cream sang on their version of Robert Johnson’s song, although I don’t imagine their idea of Rosedale was a green North Yorkshire valley, littered with the remains of ironstone mining from a century and a half ago. I parked up at Blakey Bank Top, just as the rain began. Incredibly expensive coat donned, I followed the old railway track for a few hundred yards (or metres) turning off just downwind of the heather burning which was sending a fog of smoke over the surrounding area. I was soon below the smoke, descending the “Aldi Lager Decent” as it is called on Strava, whether it is a typo for descent, or somebody praising Aldi lager we’ll never know. Always a fun descent, today was made more exciting by dubious visibility through rain soaked glasses. At the bottom I went through a gate into a farm yard, the first of eleven gates to negotiate on this route, this next section passes through squelchy fields to pick up the minor road at Thorgill. Riding alongside the most hard core golf course in the world, hacked out of the side of a rough moor. The road emerges in the village of Rosedale Abbey, where the weather took a turn for the better and the incredibly expensive coat went back in the bag. A road climb leads (eventually) to the east side of the old railway, passing a place that can’t be ignored by those with a puerile sense of humour (which is most of the people I know), the place where they breed Audi drivers; Bell End Farm. The rail bed makes its way around the head of the valley in a huge U turn, gaining height on a railway style gradient, around 2%. I followed it until the smoke from the heather, which was still burning merrily, where I was forced to take a detour up onto the road. Which was okay as the little loop behind The Lion Inn is always worth doing. All that remains is another section of disused rail track, a short section of Blakey Bank and I’m done.

Autumn Leaves

Not a lot to report about this ride. Great Ayton start, up to Roseberry Common, Newton Moor, Percy Cross Rigg, Black Nab, back of Highcliffe. Not actually raining for a change but everywhere is suffering a bit of water damage. I set off down The Riddler but the lower reaches are still in the grip of bracken, a likely looking track cut across the trail, so a wander up to find the start seemed like a good idea. It was a decent find, quite long, rooty but never too technical, on Strava it has several incarnations all named around the Lost World theme. Back on fire roads, continuing my scrounge about the forest, avoiding the mud, fallen trees and machinery, I rode another few trails, making my way east before turning and heading west, finishing with a ride along the Bluebells and Garlic track through Newton Woods. A distinct lack of bluebells or garlic today but it is mid-october.

Enough Is Enough

Light rain and drizzle was the uninspiring forecast today, it wasn’t wrong. The incredibly expensive coat was donned and I was off, another Great Ayton start, this time with a long road warm up, hoping conditions would have improved by the time I went off road. They didn’t. I rode through KIldale to Percy Cross crossroads, turning left and ascending Percy Cross Rigg through an all-permeating drizzle. The tarmac ends at a gate, Percy Cross Rigg continues as a sandy, rocky track, up to the WW2 building at the summit before dropping down to the gate at the top of The Unsuitables. Ignoring the Guisborough Woods trails, I stuck to the wide tracks, ending up on Newton Moor, the usual view across to Roseberry Topping non-existent today, hidden behind a shroud of grey cloud. I rode, via Fingerbender Bank, to Gribdale, trousers fully saturated by now, water running down into my 5:10’s, feet sloshing inside the shoes. I could have rode up the hill to Captain Cook’s Monument and had a peruse of the trails around there but as the song says, enough is enough and I bailed out down the road back to Great Ayton. So cold and wet, the butchers was passed over in favour of the chippie and a steaming hot chip butty. Just the thing.

The Show Must Go On.

It transpired today is my 100th ride of this year, which shows what a slack year this has been. Ride 100 is normally the beginning of July. To help me celebrate this milestone, I was joined by The Breadlad, we had both driven through thick fog to reach Danby which was enjoying a spell of undeniably pleasant weather, raising our hopes for a coatless ride. We pootled up the road toward Clitherbeck Farm, to pick up the gravel bridleway cutting across Castleton Pits to the beacon road. More uphill took us to Danby Beacon, which wasn’t sharing Danby’s pleasant weather, views in all directions were a uniform grey and every surface was cold and damp. Some people believe the myth that joints are sore when it is cold and damp but that’s just a mist ache. We didn’t hang around long enough to find out, heading downhill to the Roxby Moor track, dropping out of the mist, we enjoyed the newly gravelled double track. At Scaling Reservoir, an unwelcome visitor swept in and our hopes of a coatless ride were no more. Further on, the crossing of Hardale Beck, at the bottom of The Slagbag was a bit of an adventure, the usually shallow stream was flowing deep and rapid, we had to wander upstream and downstream for a while before finding a crossing point which would not involve paddling knee-deep in freezing water. We took the Oakley Walls road back towards Danby, turning off to ride down the stoney track, which has suffered some water damage, making it a bit more fun to ride. Continuing downhill, we rode over Duck Bridge and continued to Danby, where it was so warm and sunny we were happy to sit outside the cafe to replenish our calories.