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.