What A Difference A Week Makes.

What A Difference A Week Makes.

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Pensioner, The Bread Lad, The Ginger One, The Cruncher.

29th April Route

A plume of Arctic air blowing from Norway said our old friend the weatherman, blasting in from Norway he would have said if had he been the one flogging up New Way, trying to shelter behind an unsuspecting Ginger One, he hasn’t the faintest idea about roadie tactics such is his level of ignorance/contempt/disdain of the world of Lycra and emaciation. Our ride began in cool and breezy Danby, probably 20 degrees C colder than this time last week when we were enjoying the balmy, tropical weather of Southern Scotland. Riding straight up to and over the newly sanitised Ainthorpe Rigg, we viewed the ‘improvements’ less than favourably, will it ever again be worth the detour and push up from Crossley Side just to ride it down to Ainthorpe? Probably not.

Making our way up the aforementioned New Way into a vicious headwind, the clouds closed in and it began to snow. Yes, snow, even though it will be May in two days.This time last week became an oft repeated phrase. We regrouped by the gate to Trough House waiting for The Pensioner, who rode up, grunted and continued straight through the gate and along the track. Very commendable, except going through the gate was never in the plan for today’s carefully designed route, carefully designed to minimise the headwind battling. Assuming he had only gone a little way down the track to find shelter from the snow storm at Trough House, we finished our snacks and followed only to find the old, stone shooting house bereft of pensioners - he had continued along the track. Never mind, the route could still be salvaged if we caught him before he reached the Glaisdale Corkscrew, however, owing to his head start and the wind, which was now at our backs, he was away across the moor like a geriatric Marco Fontana. We had little option but to follow, this track around the head of Fryup Dale, is always worth riding even though a lot of the rocky technicality it was renown for has now be subdued by the trail sanitation department. At the end of the track, we explained his deviation from the original route, he replied the chosen route may not have been quite to his taste, although he may have used more emotive language.

Seeing as we were unexpectedly in the area, it would have been rude not to include a descent of Glaisdale Rigg and so we commenced on three and a half miles of downhill, down Glaisdale Rigg’s loose and broken surface, through Glaisdale village and down to the River Esk, where we began to climb again. Steeply through Park Farm and on to Lealholm Side, then continuing to Oakley Walls. Planning today’s (original) route, a look at the map and the weather forecast told us the last place we wanted to be riding back towards Danby today was Oakley Walls. And yet here we were, plodding into the wind along Oakley Walls, careful planning obliterated by one impetuous pensioner. The offroad track to Clitherbecks Farm was were rejoined the original plan and despite the recent weather, was dry and fast, as was the Lord’s Turnpike track, surely the best finish of any ride, downhill, offroad and depositing us practically at the door of The Stonehouse Bakery.

3 Stanes Day Three - Ae Forest.

3 Stanes Day Three - Ae Forest.

Mountain Bike Ride

The Ginger One, Tony, Rod.

23rd April 2015 Ae Forest Red Route

Wigwams vacated, keys returned, Scottish breakfast polished off, gift shops not found. How difficult can it be to buy a tartan tin of shortbread in a Scottish town, very difficult it would seem, The Ginger One’s loved ones were destined to disappointed when he didn’t return home bearing gifts of a Caledonian nature but not as disappointed as he was to return home with Scottish notes in his wallet. Apparently it’s not considered legal tender in Darlington.

The half hour drive to the ultimate trail centre of our mini break, Ae Forest, was lot more straightforward than yesterday’s attempt to find Mabie; soon we were once again assembling bikes in a sundrenched car park. All the advertised facilities were present today, toilets, bike shop and most importantly - cafe. The Red Route began surprisingly flat but it was not long before we began to climb, up Rab’s Slippy One, which turned out to be initially a zig zag through trees followed by a gently rising track through the forest, a chiaroscuro journey on a marginally technical singletrack, so we gained height without too much pain. A regular pattern of big hill, ride up, ride down followed; all the downhills were sublime, dry, not too rocky, superb berms, which always spat us out at the bottom of a steep-sided valley, pleasure and pain mingled as we climbed out. Eventually after many miles in this fashion we arrived at The Omega Man, Ae’s most well known section, we were a bit underwhelmed at first but things improved further down, becoming superlative at the final descent, jumps, doubles, table tops, rideable even by an incompetent 55 year old. Finishing with a choice of North Shore, naturally we chose the red graded.

Waiting at the bottom for the unfortunate Ginger One who had pinch-flatted on the way down, a perusal of the map revealed a section of orange graded track, named The Shredder, which we felt it would be a shame to miss. The Shredder is signposted from the top of the final descent of Omega Man, reached by a thoughtfully placed push up track. The ultra-fit Tony rode up, of course, refusing to buy into the downhiller’s push up: ride down philosophy, at the top we followed the orange arrows, expecting to be heading in a downward direction any time soon, on and on we climbed, on fire roads, turning a corner before climbing some more. Eventually we reached the top of a mountain, trig point and everything, where the downhill course and The Shredder began, suddenly the siren call of darts in Darlington reached the ears’ of The Ginger One (perhaps we ought to change his name to The Double One because that is his usual darts finish) and he was away like Danny Hart down The Shredder, we followed at a more leisurely pace. The Shredder is a good track, continuously interesting  but the best thing about The Shredder is it leads straight to the final descent of Omega Man, which we rode a second time with more gusto as the first, ending dusty, tired and happy back in the car park.

A class three days, perfect weather, excellent trails, good company, haggis fritters, Belhaven Best, hopefully it won’t be too long until we return.

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3 Stanes Day Two - Mabie

3 Stanes Day Two - Mabie

Mountain Bike Ride

The Ginger One, Rod, Tony.

22nd April Mabie red route

Day two of our mini break began with a visit to the bike shop in Dalbeattie for essential repairs to my Specialized which managed to snap a gear cable towards the end of yesterday’s ride. Kudos to the mechanic in MPG Cycles who fixed it while we went for a full Scottish breakfast. Pretty similar to a full English, with the addition of potato scones and haggis fritters, just the thing to mop up the Belhaven Best from last night, which was serving as a very good purgative this morning. Breakfast over, Tony decided he could not live one moment longer without a kilt towel, which he proudly modelled around town.

Today’s venue was Mabie Forest, apparently only a 15 minute drive from Dalbeattie but so badly signposted we began to suspect the locals were trying to hide the place from us outsiders. Owing to the wonders of modern satellite technology, or perhaps hindered by it, we eventually found the parking area. If anything the weather here was even better than yesterday, the first sun cream of the year was applied by those of a fairer complexion. Another cafe-less car park, despite the trail guide advertising one, the bike shop too, looked less than active as we passed it’s shuttered door. Mabie is less rocky than Dalbeattie with more flowing singletrack and less black excursions for us to session/play/injure* (delete as applicable) ourselves on. Climbs were amenable again, apart from a short, steep, rocky section which, much to our disgust, was included twice in red route. Some long downhills were our reward for the ascents, not too technical in any parts but featuring huge berms, some of which were so good we did them twice. In a similar fashion to yesterday, the trails were practically deserted, as though we had our own private trail centre. The Mabie red route is somewhat shorter than Dalbeattie’s, so we finished the day on the skills loop and mini x section which turned out to be great fun, especially the mini x which featured berms, tabletops and doubles, all in a fast flowing track which was so enjoyable we used the accompanying push up track to run down again. An alternative finish for the mini x is a lengthy, thin, and at times, high section of North Shore which, as they say of rock climbing problems, attracted many failures.

Quitting whilst still uninjured, we left the forest and drove to a nearby by petting farm cafe to replenish our calories and stroke some small animals. The idea of a preprandial aperitif was mooted, the plan being to approach Dalbeattie from the south on the A710 and stop in the small village of Kippford, which is a mile or two from our wigwams. The drive is picturesque to say the least, with awesome views over the Solway Firth backed by the fells of Cumbria. Kippford turned out to be a one street, seafront village, home of the Solway Yacht Club, two pubs and little else as far as we could see, although we never actually got past the second pub, so there may have been more.

Our happy band returned to the wigwams for a couple of cold ones before we once again hit the fleshpots of Dalbeattie for an evening of Italian food and Scottish beer. The Ginger One attempted to dazzle us with his cue skills but his efforts were received with the contempt they deserved. We phoned our friendly taxi driver for our last ride to Gorsebank Farm, she kept us up to date with the local gossip as we drove. Back at the wigwams, the sky was replete with stars, at least double the amount in an English sky, millions of suns, all hurtling away from us at a massive speed, the expanding universe an explosion of gas balls. Cue profound comment about our humble position in the cosmic scheme of things or bathetic observation regarding gas balls in sleeping bags. Take your pick.

Dalbeattie - 3 Stanes Day One

The 3 Stanes trip - Day One.

Dalbeattie

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Ginger One, Tony, Rod.

21st April Red Route and Skills Loop

In the cosmic lottery of British weather, all the numbers plus the bonus ball came up for this trip to Southern Scotland, Dalbeattie to be exact, a compact, grey granite town just North of the Solway Firth, our home for the next two nights. Also home to Dalbeattie Forest, one of the Seven Stanes trail centres, for us venue one of three trail centres we intended to visit. Expecting something like Glentress with cafe, showers, bike shop and related facilities we were a little underwhelmed to find the car park held nothing but pay and display machines and the advertised bike wash - a hosepipe connected to a standpipe. A mere four Terra Trailblazers were able to attend this trip, the remainder constrained by employment, convalescence or marital demands. While they probably were gazing wistfully through their respective windows at the weather, our only regret was a lack of short sleeved tops.

Bikes were hastily assembled, I have no idea why we were being hasty, with nothing to rush for, nothing but riding on the agenda until pub time tonight; after a three hour drive, I guess we were keen for legs to be spinning, hearts to be pumping and lungs to be filling with clean Scottish air. We set off on the red route, hearts pumping dangerously fast,legs spinning like windmills, lungs straining to fill with any air available, trying to keep up with Tony’s race pace, although I’m sure he thought he was ambling along in a sociable fashion as we climbed a gentle gradient. The tracks were mainly gravelled with outcrops of granite bedrock sticking through, which made for a bumpy ride, the majority being singletrack, which made a pleasant change from the fire road drags of our usual North Yorkshire forests. Things continued in this fashion for around five miles until we came to The Slab, that much photographed and videoed black graded excursion off the Dalbeattie Red Route. Slightly less well known is the gateway and guardian to The Slab - The Qualifier, a vertical pile of rocks, three or four metres high which after close perusal, was declared beyond our technical ability or level of bravery and eschewed. Moving on, unqualified, to The Slab, we descended this testpiece, not without some prevarication at first but then more competently as we realised this granite rugosity was not as daunting as first appearance suggested, although the banging and clattering from protesting bikes as they bounced down the unyielding rock for the second and third goes left us in no doubt The Slab would win eventually.

Moving on, we rode more rocky singletrack, inevitably stopping to session the black excursions - sessioning, really getting down with the kids there you see, riding skinny planks or rocky drops, or not in some cases, mainly mine. Notable sectors are Log On, Log Off and Threading The Needle where we played sessioned until it hurt. Arriving quite unexpectedly back at the car park, we realised it was still relatively early, so after raiding our three day supply of junk food in lieu of lunch, we set off again to do the the skills loop, despite our apparent lack of skills, we spent the next half hour or so throwing ourselves down more vertical faces, balancing along rocky spines and risking emasculation on skinny planks high above the ground - well, a metre high at least.

Back at the car park, 18 rocky miles and a couple of thousand feet of climbing clocked up, we called it a day and moved on to our accommodation, a mere 500m down the road. Gorsebank Farm was to be our home for the next couple of nights, we stayed in the camping wigwams which are much the same as the ones at Glentress except they have a microwave in addition to the fridge, kettle and heater. They were better kitted out than The Ginger One who was woefully underprepared and had to venture into town to buy a sleeping bag and other essentials before he could join us in the brew, beer and banter prior to venturing into the metropolis of Dalbeattie for our evening meal.