Mountain Bike Ride
The Fireman
In complete contrast to the first day of this month, Danby today was drab and grey, although not actually raining and forecast to get a bit brighter; seasonally average weather for below average cyclists. A mere two of us today, yesterday’s big group (4?) a blip when that gap between work, domestic duties and lack of motivation opened up and released four people concurrently.
The road to Ainthorpe beckoned and we answered it’s call, albeit with as much enthusiasm as an uphill start will ever engender. Mercifully, the tennis court marking the top of the hill came into sight and we resorted to off road riding on the bridleway over Ainthorpe Rigg. Since it was sanitised/improved/totally ruined, (*delete as applicable) riding up is decidedly less strenuous than it used to be, although a couple of muddy stretches meant what is usually a dab-free ascent was flawed. The Crossley Side descent was worth the pain, starting down a rocky gully which eventually opens out into a wide grassy track, today sodden sward, spraying water in our faces as we let the brakes off. Or perhaps spattering faeces in our faces, such is the amount of sheep droppings littering the area.
The next bit of the plan involved the bridleway from Stonebeck Gate Farm to Crag Wood but we wimped out, theorising current conditions would have rendered it offensively muddy. Instead we continued to Great Fryup Dale and followed the road back to Houlsyke, a lovely bit of road, mainly downhill, through a picturesque and little visited valley. As we reached Houlsyke, the weather stuck two fingers up at the BBC and a steady rain began to fall, we stuck two fingers up at the weather and continued undaunted. The ascent of the loose and rocky track up Oakley Side was cleaned by Fireman power but my attempt was thwarted by the bike which decided to change from granny ring back to the big ring without telling me. Halfway up, when standing on the pedals no longer worked and I was wondering if a human heart could actually explode, I realised the little joke my drivetrain had decided to play on me.
Pausing at the top to regain some semblance of normal breathing, despite the awfulness of the weather, was mandatory before we set off again onto the bridleway which leads to Clitherbeck Farm. Always fun whatever the weather, somewhat puddle strewn today but we were wet anyway. The weather began to improve a bit along here, the rain ceasing by the time we reached the road. A quick bit of tarmac took us up to Robin Hood’s Butts, where, as usual, the wind was against us; Robin Hood’s Butts resembles a canal at the best of times, today we rode along listening to the sound of bottom brackets drowning. After half a mile or so the cairn marking the start of the Sis Cross Road was reached - not actually a road at all but a narrow, occasionally paved, singletrack through the heather: today, a narrow, occasionally paved, stream. Slightly uphill at first until we reached the high point, a lone finger of rock, the downhill section is like a toboggan run, constrained by walls of peat and heather, still wet, the odd patch of The Evil Yellow Mud Of North Yorkshire, sticks like dung to duvet, slowed us down but it was nonetheless and enjoyable ride down.
Continuing on The Pannierman’s Causeway, the small beck we rode through a few weeks ago, now a different proposition, fast flowing and more than knee deep, even the stepping stones were underwater, riding back uphill the way we had came was less preferable to wet feet, so pedalling was usurped by paddling, waterproof socks and shoes were tested and found lacking. More sodden sward brought us to the bridleway which leads to Danby Park, where we picked up the road back to Danby, soon dripping onto the floor of The Stonehouse Bakery, where sandwiches must come with a side order of cake, such is our total lack of willpower when confronted with the display case.
Back at the cars we met some birdwatchers who kindly identified our dead bird from yesterday - a red legged partridge. We could have ate it.
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