Slightly Less Moist Hamsters.
Monday 1st July 2019
The Ginger One
The start of another month and here we are at Hamsterley Forest again, giving my shiny new car park pass its first outing. No Bedburn trail burglars here - except The Ginger One, although in some out of character attack of morals or conscience he decided to lash out six of his hard earned (hard earned ha!) quids in support of the trail network instead of parking outside the forest at the handy lay-by of the parsimonious. For a bit of a change we elected to throw in some off-piste between the regular tracks, beginning with the long haul up to Doctor’s Gate, then back down to the forest via the old 4x4 track, which now has some seriously deep ruts but makes for a fun ride down.
From the gate we went into the trees and did The Hidden Gem, slightly damp but a nice introduction to Hamsterley off-piste, never too steep but technical enough to keep things interesting. Emerging onto a fire road, we continued towards the Beehives track, although the actual beehives are long gone, climbed up the through the roots to the start of Honey Badger, another straight-forward trail apart from one steep and eroded drop, which was attacked cautiously - if that’s not an oxymoron. And speaking of morons...No, nothing to see here,I'm not going to mention The Ginger One buying a sandwich then throwing it away because it contained coleslaw. Emerging at the river, which today was low as we have ever seen it, an easy pedal to the other side, we climbed up to Oddsox, one of the man-made tracks, this and a couple more trails saw us back in the valley bottom and embarking on the long haul up to Polties Last Blast and the fabulous quintet of Polties, K Line, Transmission, Accelerator and Nitrous, all man-made but varied, from speedy gravel blasts to weaving through trees and bouncing over rock gardens - well worth six quid of anyone’s money, especially someone who earns more than six quid just having his first cup of coffee. All too soon it was climbing time again, the aptly named Cough Up A Lung Lane, although cough up a fly might have been more appropriate today, after a lot of puffing and panting, Windybank Road came into view, an oasis of flat in a desert of verticality and we scooted along the tarmac for a bit to find the entrance to The Pensioner, not in the style of Wayne Rooney but the trail which was built as a tribute to our esteemed friend and fellow rider. Today, not unlike its namesake, a little awkward, wet roots trying their best to fling us around.
Emerging on to the fireroad, we eschewed Boneshaker in favour of Swiss Tony, another bit of off-piste through the trees which ends up on the road below Special K. We missed out the start of Special K and sought out a route I’d almost forgotten about, Max Headroom, which is still in existence and looks as though it is ridden regularly, we joined Special K near the wall ride and continued to Brainfreeze which rattled us back to the river again and a flat pedal along The Gruffalo Trail to the visitor centre. There were a few bikes and cyclists at the cafe but we hadn’t seen a soul out on the trails; could there be a secret trail network we are not cool enough to know about?
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Leisurely Local Loop
Tuesday 2nd July 2019
La Mujerita
Out with La Mujerita today but as she has the misfortune to be still gainfully employed, it had to be a local quicky as she was doing a late shift. We made our way from home, through some local villages using minor roads, cycle tracks and hidden bridleways. I gave the cross bike a spin, it’s not seeing much use nowadays since the demise of the BNQ’s (Before Nights Quickies) and I had forgotten how hard it is on the arms over rocks and roots. We had a decent couple of hours out and we still home in time for a bite to eat before one of us had to go to work and the other resumed his life of blissful indolence. I heard a quote from Bob Dylan which sums up retirement for me. “What’s money? A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do.”
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The Pensioner’s Legacy
Wednesday 3rd July 2019
The Breadlad
He’s back on the scene like a sex machine, well, crumpet machine anyway, The Breadlad has finished his block of shifts and is eager, willing and able, ready to squeeze as much bicycling related fun out of his days off as possible without resorting to international flights, blood doping or figure-hugging lycra. We began with a bang, the Gunnerside route, The Pensioner’s legacy, the best ride he ever devised, despite the heinous push/carry out of Gunnerside valley. Bagging the last remaining parking space in the ever popular village of Gunnerside was a bonus, sun shining, birds singing, flies flying, what could spoil a day like this? How about ascending Jingle Pot Edge in the blazing sun, sweat running in your eyes as you go higher and higher until the track finally levels out, looking down on Gunnerside Gill far below.
Then a welcome bit of descent, varying from wide gravel to rocky singletrack as the old mine buildings come into view where we drop down to cross the river. A good spot for a breather before the push out. From the top, we ride for a short while across the barren, gravel-scape left behind by decades of mining and drop down to pick up a track along the other side of Gunnerside Gill, this time in a gravity friendly direction, terminating in a balls-out blast through grassy moguls, like downhill skiing. A little climbing on fire roads takes us through a gate and onto another grassy moor, only slightly downhill this time but kept billiard table smooth by chomping sheep. A speedy gravel and tarmac section section takes us to Blades, a hamlet in every sense of the word, a scattering of houses surrounded by moor and fields.
Another climb leads to a moorland singletrack which takes us pleasantly to Surrender Bridge and the track to the Old Gang Smelting Mill, riding through another desolate landscape of spoil heaps and sterile rock, ruined buildings and abandoned machinery, legacy of the Swaledale boom times, hard to imagine nowadays, this tourist beauty spot as an industrial heartland.
A quick pause to take on some calories before the long climb to Moor House, all on wide gravel, upwards, ever upwards, eventually we reached the ruins of Moor House, passing through what might have been the farmyard to begin our much-anticipated descent. But first a little more gentle climbing before the fun begins, the wide track cuts across the moor, between grouse butts and heather before it starts to descend, loose and rocky, sketchy on the turns, watching out for the stone which marks the turn off. Hang a left at the stone and we’re on a narrower track, dried mud and rocks, steeper, downward to a stream crossing, usually slippery and today is no different, through the gate and onto the billiard table grass we rode earlier, this time turning right, down another bridleway, grassy at first, funnelling us to a tree-shaded rock garden, arms pumping, suspension bouncing until we emerge beside a house on the most minor of minor roads. From here, we go through the famous electric gate and we are back in Gunnerside, two stinking, sweaty mountain bikers amid the ambling tourists. A grand ride on a fantastic day, thank you Pensioner.
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Serendipity
Thursday 4th July 2019
The Breadlad
Second day out in a row for The Breadlad, fifth for me and still going, maybe not strong but still going nevertheless. Blakey Bank Top, on Blakey Ridge was bright, sunny and in contrast to yesterday, freezing, a bitter wind blowing strongly to remind us we are still in the grip of a British summer. At least it’ll keep the midges away. I’d had a plan to explore some of the less ridden bridleways above Rosedale and today seemed like the perfect day give it a go.
Our first bridleway cuts across Rosedale Head, down then up, in good condition today but probably one of those best avoided in winter, or autumn, or spring even. A bit of tarmac took us to bridleway number two, better known as the George Gap Causeway, another of the paved trods which cross the North York Moors, although who George was we have no idea but he knocked up a canny bit of track, apart from one boggy section where the stones have disappeared. Come on George, get your finger out.
This brought us out at an old favourite, the Trough House track, which runs in a very scenic manner around the head of Fryupdale, we climbed gently up to the house and continued to the road to pick up a “new to us” bridleway which drops down to the Rosedale railway track. Why had we never rode it before? What a route, narrow singletrack, downhill all the way, the odd rock or drop to keep things interesting, grand views across the valley, a superb bit of track, I have heard whispers that it is deliberately not publicised to avoid it being too popular although there were a few bike tracks in the softer patches, it remains a wholly natural ride. At the rail track we headed in the opposite direction to usual, south towards Rosedale Abbey, which turned out to be downhill all the way to Hill Cottages, result. Tarmac took us along the valley to Dale Head Farm where the self-service tea room was waitress service today - a first for us. We sat in the garden, sheltered by bushes as menus flew round in the wind, which, if anything, has became stronger as the day goes on.
Suitably satiated, we made the gruesome ascent to regain the railway track above the farm, pausing to catch our breath and read one of the notices we had managed to ignore most of the ride. It seems a large section of this end of the track is going to be closed for repair for several months starting from next Monday, which puts the famous Rosedale Round out of the picture until October at the earliest. We savoured the track back to the car, apart from one innocuous looking puddle which tried to swallow my bike whole - let’s hope the repairs get that sorted out.
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Day 6 of 6
Friday 5th July 2019
The Breadlad
Day six of six for me, as far as I can recall, unprecedented on British soil, day three of three but maybe four if he can persuade the wife for The Breadlad and I feel less tired than after a couple of days of riding. Most odd, can’t understand it but here we are again, offloading bikes, this time at Sheepwash, which at this time in the morning is like Piccadilly Circus for dogs, every few yards there is someone wandering along, plastic bag of cack dangling from their free hand. We set off along the reservoir, not day six in the Big Brother house but day six in the saddle which is, without a doubt, preferable to being trapped in a house of vacuous, conceited nonentities. A bit of a pull up to High Lane, then almost immediately descending again, weaving through trees on Rod’s Route down to gorse bush alley, which, in the words of the man himself, is lethal, needs cutting back again. Having had the heads up, we bypassed the tunnel of torment and found a way around the prickly passage of pain, rejoining a little further down, ready to descend to the campsite.
Today’s weather is sunny intervals and fairly warm but not sitting in the sun with a cold San Miguel standard by any means. We climbed up to the antennas and rode through Arncliffe Wood on some lovely tracks before emerging onto Scarth Wood Moor where we got onto the Cleveland Way, following the paved path down to the road. Staying on the Cleveland Way, we went into Clain Woods, down the famous steps, they will become the infamous steps on the way back up but for now, they were great fun. The trail continues to Scugdale, we crossed the road at Heathwaite and began climbing again, just so we could lose height again with a bit of fun descending in Faceby Plantation before a speedy downhill on gravel takes us to the outskirts of Faceby, from where a track through fields ends in Whorlton. More tarmac to Swainby, a quick check on the progress of the new cafe, coming along nicely, maybe it’ll be open soon, a bit more climbing and we are back at the steps. Our attempts at riding the steps are thwarted within feet of setting off, predominantly by our languorous riding style, tutored as we are in the philosophies of Homer (Simpson) “If something’s hard to do, it’s not worth doing.” With a complete lack of shame, we pushed our bikes to the top of the steps before retracing our tyre tracks back Sheepwash. Six days, eighty eight mainly off-road miles and eight thousand feet of ascent, I might have a day off the bike tomorrow.
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