The month began wet, even by North York Moors’ standards but Wednesday's forecast looked promising, so after two days of ‘alternative activity’ i.e. not biking, I ventured out into the wide blue yonder. Well, Guisborough Woods anyway, which is more like the green and brown yonder. Predictably, the majority of trails had suffered from the precipitation, leaving them a greasier mess than that ill-advised, alcohol-induced 2 am parmo. I must have been feeling energetic though because I took a swerve from my return route, humping the bike up the steps onto Newton Moor and squeezing in another couple of miles of moorland delight. All to build up a healthy appetite for one of Fletcher’s Farm Shop’s delectable cheese and onion sausage rolls (if that is not an oxymoron, a sausage roll with no sausage.) It was all in vain - they had none.
I thought I had better slip in this classic before it becomes too wet/muddy/slippery/icy* (*delete as appropriate) to contemplate. A straightforward ride from Lordstones to Cold Moor got me to the gate at the bottom of the steps but I turned right and followed a narrow singletrack over the shale tips around the North face of Cold Moor. Bracken still very much in charge on the singletrack, forcing my way through with no sign of the track beneath my front wheel at times, ever conscious of our little bloodsucking friends which seem to regard me as a free buffet, despite covered arms and legs. From Garfitt Gap, on the eastern edge of Cold Moor, a short but steep bridleway heads up onto the broad summit ridge, too steep for a mere mortal like me, so it was bike on shoulders and let the hiking begin. A wide, sandy track runs the length of Cold Moor, dropping down to Chop Gate encompassing a variety of riding terrain. The wide track morphs into an old stream bed, littered with rocks and drop offs, the ideal playground for full suspension fun. This bit ends too soon, I even contemplated pushing back up and doing it again but thoughts are not actions and continuing downwards resumed. A variety of singletracks lead to a pair of gates where the trail becomes more rural, running down a broad gully between fields prior to the final section, a loamy tunnel through trees which pops out on the Raisdale Road in Chop Gate,. A classic only marred by it’s brevity, I had travelled a little over 5 miles from the start, I could have powered (powered is a relative term) up the Raisdale Road and been back at Lordstones with only 8 miles in the legs or alternatively, find another huge hill to climb just for the fun of riding down. Several uphill miles later, I was on the summit of Carlton Bank, taking in the view of Cleveland and North Yorkshire, while questioning my sanity. It was worth it for the descent though. The link below is for a time-lapse version of the Cold Moor descent filmed a couple of years ago.
Classic Descents In The Cleveland Hills. Episode One - The Cold Moor Descent.
What turned out to be my only ride of this week, for various reasons I shan’t bore you with but it was a cracker. I left Swainby and made my way to Codbeck, planning an ascent of the Mad Mile to see if my new, decreased fitness regime still left me with enough stamina to pedal 400 vertical feet in a mile . The answer is yes but it would be fair to say I didn’t exactly glide up it with gears and energy to spare, it has been a long time since my granny saw so much action. Normally I would have a quick nibble of something at the top, turn round and enjoy 400 feet of descent but the exertion must have warped my brain because I kept on pedalling, like a cycling Forrest Gump, heading south on the Drove Road to Boltby Forest, dropping down a bridleway into the forest before climbing back up to rejoin the Drove Road, filing away a whole load of new tracks for future reference. I’m sure the oldest teenager in Teesside, Rod, will already be aware of them but they might pass an hour or so away in the future. Now it was time to reverse my journey, heading back down the Drove Road, gaining my revenge on the Mad Mile with a rapido descent, continuing onto High Lane and the brief but enjoyable drop to the ford at Sheepwash. Another few, predominantly downhill, miles later I was back in Swainby, basking in autumnal sunshine as spent calories were replenished. Please click below for a short video of an earlier descent of the Mad Mile.
The Mad Mile
As days go, I couldn’t have asked for a better one, providing blue sky, sunshine and no wind are your thing, they are undoubtedly mine. I headed for the deep south of our region, Sutton Bank, where rides begin at 1,000 feet above sea level, giving a bit of an advantage in the climbing stakes. Today’s ride was a mix and match using the waymarked trails, which are only the old bridleways we used to ride anyway. Now they have benefited from some gravel and a bit of hardcore and are holding up quite well, irregardless of the dire predictions of The Pensioner at the time, who prophesied they wouldn’t last the winter. Bits of all the routes were mixed up to scrape together a ride, red, blue and green, as always the highlight for me is the drop to the old quarry next to Boltby Scar followed by the continuation, a speedy singletrack contouring the hillside below the escarpment. This section often pops up on repeats of one of those helicopter rescue medical shows, where a mountain biker suffered an unfortunate accident and had to be airlifted to hospital. The singletrack is thin and occasionally lumpy, it is easy to let your speed get a bit too exuberant and before you know it, you’re a source of entertainment for a whole sub-species of humanity for whom adventure means trying a new brand of tea or arguing with strangers on the internet. I reached the end of the track without a free helicopter flight and contemplated my options; through the gate, down a field, then a lengthy climb, mainly on a fire road back to the escarpment or a short but brutal push to High Barns, where I started the segment. No competition really, short but brutal it was and I was on the multi-use singletrack which runs along the edge of the moor, all the way to what is modestly billed as “The Finest View In England” . Not having seen every view in England, I’m in no position to comment but it has got to be in the top ten at least. From here the green family route leads back to the carpark and visitor centre and very pleasant it is too. Back at the car, it was only early, so I went into extra loop mode and had another spin around the new bit in the forest, including a quick turn on the pump track before returning to the finest view in England and a second go along the green route, all with the pleasure of some sunshine to highlight the autumnal greens and russets.
I was hoping for a continuation of yesterday's marvellous weather but I found myself as disappointed as a Darlington football club supporter on, well, on any Saturday of the season really. Incipient drizzle, a cold wind and an overall sense of greyness to the day. Although a lot of the greyness bore no relation to the weather; the ‘guardians of the countryside’ had also taken advantage of yesterday’s weather to indulge in a spot of heather management, which mainly involves torching tracts of moorland to allow fresh heather growth for young grouse to eat prior to being blasted from the sky by some borderline alcoholics with an expensive weapons fixation. The smoke left Guisborough and Great Ayton beneath a gloomy pall, looking like a Hollywood version of dystopia and smelling like Fortunes smokehouse in Whitby. None of the above was enough to make me think twice about riding my bike and I was soon pedalling up through the farms to Roseberry Common, before shouldering my bike up the steps to Newton Moor, ready for a ride across to Guisborough Woods. A couple of hours’ worth of the usual scrounging about the trails ensued, some are already suffering from weather and overuse, deep ruts and puddles where firm trails used to be. Just imagine if Guisborough had funding like Hamsterley, the potential to be superb is there. My actual route was varied and meandering, many of the older trails appear to be underused and overgrown, which is a shame. Eventually, cold and wet, I called it a day and reversed my outward route back to Great Ayton, a bit of payback from the gravity bank.
Clicking on the route names will take you to the Strava page for the route. Where you can marvel at how slow we are.
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