Cyclocross bike ride
The Fireman.
Having to drag oneself from bed before 6 am for a bike ride shows dedication to the cause, not to mention the 120 miles of driving and 45 miles of pedalling, the majority of it through the only rain forecast for the next three months. And still it was a great day.
Six hundred like minded cyclists assembled in a windy field somewhere in the green vastness that is Dalby Forest in North Yorkshire,before the clock had even struck eight. Needless to say we were without The Pensioner, who considers our usual half ten starts a bit too near the dawn chorus for his liking. The Adventure X event run by Cycling Weekly was, as usual, well organised but friendly, check in was brief and painless, soon The Fireman and me were at the start line, listening intently to the safety briefing like the chemical industry professionals we are. And with a few blasts from a hooter, our little contingent was let loose in the woods, following singletrack through the pines, at a leisurely pace until we were dumped onto a fire road where some of the cyclists who obviously did not hear the bit about it not being a race, put the hammer down and vanished into the distance. A more relaxed approach was taken by us two, our combined age of 110 years having no bearing on this whatsoever, we just wanted to relax and enjoy the day. Before long we were on open moorland following the quaintly named Old Wife’s Way and a nice descent to Malo Cross, one of the ancient stone crosses dotted about the moors.
After this we traversed a track to the rear of the Fylingdales Early Station, sticking strictly to the outside of the fence, unlike the day The Pensioner and The Bread Lad found themselves chatting to some men with machine guns when a bit of route finding went awry. The first feed station came into view and we stopped for some energy replenishment.
The height profile suggested the next 5 miles or so were downhill, which turned out to be true, as did the weather forecast which suggested it would begin raining about now. Hurtling along into lashing rain at 25 mph was painful, they make lumpy rain in North Yorkshire. It was almost a relief when the route turned upward, the wind and rain were behind us and the exertion brought some warmth back into our extremities. After this the route becomes something of a blur as we passed through small villages between acres of pine forest, some of the forest sections were on pleasant singletrack which, as they used to say on The Fast Show, was nice. 26 miles in we reached Scalby Mills, on the outskirts of Scarborough and more importantly, the feed station, where we took on more calories and tried to shelter from the rain, which still dumped down from high although, without it’s previous ferocity, as though it realised it was not going to stop us.
Continuing we rode to Raincliffe Woods, which presented us with our first technical difficulty of the day, a muddy uphill, which stymied every rider we saw attempting it; from here we dropped down into an enclosed valley, looking ahead it was obvious the only way out was up, surrounded as we were by tree clad hillsides. When the climb came it was long and brutal, most riders were off their bikes and pushing, I had the end in sight when my puny legs succumbed to the high cross bike gearing and I joined the pedestrians. At the top we remounted and continued, only slightly disappointed not to have made a dab free ascent. More trees followed as we passed through Wykenham Forest and re-entered Dalby Forest. The raised singletrack section of the Dalby red route was interesting on cross bikes in the wet but we managed to without veering off the edge. Missed out the two bombholes though.
A long and rattly fire road descent gave us something akin to Vibration White Finger in feet and hands until we reached Low Dalby and the ultimate a climb of the day, a steady tarmac drag with tired legs and frozen hands. A level section followed this and suddenly the finishing arch came into sight, we rode through to rapturous silence, everyone was sheltering from the rain in tents. The all important medals were draped over our heads, we were given a free magazine and it was all over, two mud covered men, with mud covered bikes, standing in a field in the pouring rain, surrounded by numerous others in the same position - every single person grinning and happy, discussing the ride. Odd bunch cyclists.
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