The First Bit Of Freezing February.

 

Short But Steep

For the first time this year I have a riding  companion, The Breadlad has found a window in his diary, took a break from international jet setting and ventured out into the wilds of North Yorkshire. Not a bad day for the start of February, sunny(ish) at least. We met at Lordstones and plunged straight into the agony with an ascent of Carlton Bank, utilising the old track which once led to the gliding club. From the summit we had a glorious bit of downhill into Faceby Woods, where most of the trails are going the same way as the trails around Cod Beck Reservoir and Guisborough Woods. And the way they are going is onto the back of a wagon and off to the biomass power station, the trees anyway, the trails are buried beneath the detritus of modern logging, the check-shirted lumberjacks Monty Python sang about so gleefully when I was a lad have long gone, replaced by War Of The Worlds machines which chop, trim and stack within minutes. There will always be a payback for such an enjoyable bit of descending and it wasn't long before we found ourselves hauling up the end of Scugdale. The track up to Stoney Wickes has seen some serious traffic of the HGV variety by the look of it, leaving behind a barely walkable quagmire, requiring some devious diversions to get us to the top unsullied. We continued down Raisdale Mill Lane which was predictably awful, a pernicious amalgam of mud, water, rocks and vegetation beneath which lurks a bridleway (allegedly). By the time we reached the road, enthusiasm for further bog-trotting was somewhat on the low side., so we headed back to Lordstones and the welcome warmth of the cafe.

Blinded By The LIght

The sun really did get its hat on and come out to play today, how can it be in your eyes the whole way round a circular route? For a bit of variety, I parked at the cafe-free Hutton Village and pedaled the old railway track along the outskirts of Guisborough until I reached the Concrete Road. Which could mean only one thing, riding up The Concrete Road, it has been a good while since I did this ascent and I can categorically state it hasn’t got any easier. Once my breathing  had recovered, I began climbing again, taking the track along the top of Guisborough Woods, getting a few winter miles to make summer smiles, into the legs. Still a viable activity for us dwindling minority of analog bikers. Eventually I found myself on the north side of the woods, the shaded and still frozen side, which meant the trails hadn’t reverted to the usual winter slop. A carefully curated selection of Guiborough’s finest off-piste followed, culminating with a descent of an old classic - The Chute. Still enjoyable after all these years.

Andy's Overactive Anus.

For the second time this month, The Breadlad has escaped from the world of flour and yeast, flung his leg over the crossbar and joined me in pursuit of non-electric enjoyment. We both remarked on a contemporary anomaly, we are out riding, nearly everyone who used to ride with us has an electric bike now, yet they ride less than they did in their analog days. It is a mystery. Are they frightened to let their bikes get cold or dirty? Is it the price of electricity? Are they trying to keep the mileage down, so they can sell them in pristine condition and spend the money on golf sticks or gym memberships? Whatever they are doing it can’t have been as much fun as we were having, panting up the hill out of Danby. Getting off-road as quickly as possible, so The Breadlad’s over-active bowels could find a convenient gorse bush to evacuate behind. I swear he has the digestion of a seagull. Two dumps within an hour, at least it wasn’t on the car windscreen - this time. One of us was considerably lighter by the time we continued on our way to Robin Hood’s Butts. We turned onto the rough track and had the wind behind us, a rare occurrence, normally it is in your face all the way to the Shaun The Sheep bus shelter. It seemed so much easier, we paused at the shelter for a snack before hurtling down the road (hurtling may be a relative term) to pick up the bridleway to Foul Green, just outside Commondale.  Another bridleway runs roughly parallel with the Esk Valley railway line, which goes from Midlesbrough to Whitby, we followed this, crossing the road near Castleton and continuing through Danby Park on draggy tracks which eventually took us back to Danby. Our ride was a little on the brief side, it must be said, I’m sure many modern day porn actors could, if they wind was behind them, ejaculate further but the cafe was open and more importantly for The Breadlad, so was the toilet because yet again, the turtle’s head was battering at the anal gates. 

Can't Beat A Bit Of Sideways Sleet To Liven The Ride Up.

Back on my lonesome today and the first time for a good while since I have ridden two days in a row. Treated myself to an easy warm up, taking tarmac from Great Ayton to KIldale. Met ex-Terra Trailblazer, The Fireman, three times today, he was riding the lanes with his CTC buddies. From KIldale I headed off-road up the Yellow Brick Road onto Percy Cross Rigg. It is another day of grey cloud and less sunshine than the dark side of the moon. Apparently we are trapped in some anti-cyclonic weather system, the sun hasn’t been spotted for days and it is set to continue like this for a while yet. We’ll all be on vitamin D tablets before much longer. The forecast did warn of “some precipitation which may fall as sleet or snow on higher ground.” which was not incorrect. Pedaling across the shelter-less Codhill Heights, sideways sleet turned to sideways snow, leaving me looking like a moving Rorschach test.

Psychologist: “What do you see when you look at this shape?”

Client: “An idiot on a bike.”

It passed over by the time I reached Highcliffe Nab, where I risked my 1960’s teeth on a frozen energy bar, sucking until it was soft enough to chew, you don’t take chances with your gnashers at my age. The sugar sandwiches my grandad used to sneak me behind my mother’s back have a lot to answer for. Some trails beckoned, I chanced a few of the firmer ones, heading through the woods until I reached Roseberry Common, with only the drop through the farms between me and the delights of pastry encased animal flesh. The section from the common to Aireyholme Farm was especially uninviting, mud and water all the way down, I’d managed to stay relatively dry up until now, that soon changed and I arrived at Fletcher’s Farm shop looking like a curry house toilet, with one wet foot courtesy of puddle which turned out to be deeper than it looked. The sausage roll made up for it. I am easily pleased.

Clicking on the route names will take you to the Strava page for the route. Where you can marvel at how slow we are.

 

The Return Of The Blog

Well, it has been a while since I last endeavoured to write a blog, mainly because I have been in the land of Vegemite sandwiches and avocado on everything. The end of December and the start of January were spent in Australia, where it was the height of summer. And not the insipid attempt at the summer solstice we are used to in this country, most days the thermometer was hovering around 30 degrees at breakfast time and only getting hotter. A busy schedule of eating, drinking and sightseeing meant riding bikes was a distant memory. Of course I could have went native, retiring to bed at eight thirty pm and going for a ride at half four in the morning like the locals; as I say, I could have done that but the fact we were in a big city where some of the pubs manage to stay open after seven pm kind of put paid to the idea. Only because I didn’t want to appear antisocial you understand. Returning to England came as a great shock, flying into a snow-covered Manchester, which was around thirty degrees cooler than we were used to, it was some time before the lure of the moor became too strong to ignore.

First Ride Of 2025

Almost into the last week of January and I am finally cocking leg over crossbar and pedaling slowly away from Great Ayton, feeling under-exercised and decidedly overweight, it isn’t long before the fifty tooth back cog is brought into play. Ten teeth for each week I have not been riding and I suffered for every one. The familiar climb to Roseberry Common is fraught with unfamiliar sensations, burning legs and rasping lungs, teeth tingling, eyes watering from the cold air. Did I used to do this for fun? Making my way into Guisborough Woods, the combination of snow, thaw and rain has left the trails in predictable condition, so I stuck to fire roads, which were slightly draggy but good exercise to get me fit again. Or so I kept telling myself for sixteen miles or so, every bit of my body ached by the time I pulled up outside the butcher’s shop for the first Cornish (style) pasty in many weeks. As Professor Brian Cox and his buddies once sang “Things can only get better.”

Quicky, Before The Rain

It was due to rain at one pm, so a quick scoot round before it started seemed a good idea. Swainby had the pleasure of my company today, briefly anyway. The Rusty Bike cafe at Swainby is closed on a Thursday, so the village hall fills the cafe gap by offering food and refreshments. Judging by the amount of cars about it is very popular but they only serve until one pm, which is never usually of much use to me. This being only the second ride for some time, the hill out of Swainby proved a little trying but I plodded on, secure in the knowledge my fitness was being boosted by the effort. Probably by less than a tenth of a percent or something but eventually I found myself on High Lane above Sheepwash, heading for Square Corner. I didn’t bother with my usual excursion into Silton Woods, opting to turn around at Square Corner and head back for the reservoir at Cod Beck. All the trails in the woods above the reservoir, which Rod partially built and maintained are buried beneath a tsunami of fallen trees; the infamous Colonel, who lives out his twilight years hauling branches across trails is probably orgasmic at the sight of the place now. I dropped down to the reservoir, then, in the spirit of self-improvement, rode up the private road to Scarth Wood Moor, just to ride back down the other side. Which was splendid, following the roughly paved bridleway all the way to the road. Another short bit of muddy singletrack took me to a back road leading back to Swainby. The forecast was not as accurate as it could have been but at least the rain was light.

Breezy At The Beacon 

My third ride of the year began from Scaling Dam, a usual spin out towards Lealholme, then back to Danby Beacon, ready for a blast across the ever-accommodating Roxby Moor. I failed to factor in the headwind, which attempted to push me backward 50% of the ride, luckily the first 50%. It was unnecessarily ferocious, having no sympathy for my depleted fitness. Hardale Beck, usually crossed by a long stride from stone to stone, was running wide and fast today, some downstream exploring had to be undertaken before I could reach the other bank with dry feet. Hardale Beck flows across the foot of The Slagbag, a mere tenth of a mile of near vertical unpleasantness, steeply angled gravel and grass, requiring precise body positioning and punishing power output to make it to the top without dabbing. Or you can just walk and save the prospective coronary for a different day. The Oakley Walls road traverses the moor, high above the Esk Valley, leading to a gravel bridleway, The Watersplash Singletrack on Strava. This ends at Clitherbeck Farm, from where it is possible to gain the road to Danby Beacon via a partially paved bridleway, part of The Pannierman’s Causeway, or less arduously by tarmac. No prizes for guessing what I did. The wind was howling by the time I reached Danby Beacon, some of the gusts made standing up a challenge but it was beginning to be in the more amiable direction. When I turned onto the Roxby Moor bridleway, it became a full on tailwind, God’s helping hand, pushing me along the track. All too soon I was back at Scaling Dam car park, bike on car and heading to Birk Brow for the first burger van visit of 2025.

Not Bad For The Middle Of Winter

I had a couple of venues in mind for today, both on top of hills but the weather gods intervened by adding a sporadic coating of ice to the roads, discretion became the better part of valour and I parked up in Great Ayton yet again.  Up through the farms, heading for Guisborough Woods, hoping for some firm and frosty trails, unfortunately some beautiful winter sunshine put paid to that idea and most of the trails were a thin skin of thawed mud, more slippery than sloppy, relegating traction and control to the optional extras part of the brochure. A few frozen bits lurked in sheltered North-facing coves and they were marvellous, a proper winter wonderland of frosted branches, white grass and hard trails. Unfortunately, few and far between, the remainder were mainly left for better weather. From the top of Highcliffe Nab, I looked across Guisborough to the North Sea, glimmering blue in the sunshine, not a bad day for the middle of winter. Plenty of people out enjoying it today too, even a few other mountain-bikers,  leaping off the hamster wheel of employment in favour of some good old muddy fun. The remainder of the ride continued in a similar vein, scrounging about the woods, seeing which trails have been redeveloped after being felled and which trails have succumbed to lumberjackery. And all trails lead to food eventually, well, they do in my world, Great Ayton beckoned and the ride was over. The first month of 2025 finished and only four rides in the bag, never mind, plenty of months left in the year to catch up.

Clicking on the route names will take you to the Strava page for the route. Where you can marvel at how slow we are.