Six rides to blog and four of them in Guisborough Woods, which shows a distinct lack of imagination, so I'll try and keep it brief. As usual, the titles are the Strava names, which can be found under my Strava pseudonym of Lordy Lardy.
Postdiluvian Leg Stretcher.
Alone
Putting leg over crossbar following an unprecedented five days rest, five days during which the heavens demonstrated they could throw more water on the floor than a toddler in a paddling pool. I set off from a soggy Great Ayton and decided on a few road miles to get warmed up, reaching Easby on the way to Kildale, a shower ensued, proper stair rods, a few road cyclists were taking cover in the lee of trees and buildings but Terra Trailblazers are made of sterner stuff and I pressed on. A pair of sheep watched me warily as they waited for Noah to pick them up. And then it stopped, leaving us mainly dry for the rest of the ride - the details of which are irrelevant, Guisborough Woods, puddles, fire roads, sloppy tracks, moody skies and back to the butchers before they sold out of pies.
How Much Rain Can One Sky Hold?
La Mujerita
The following day, an after lunch start from Gribdale with La Mujerita, Aireyholme Farm, up to Guisborough Woods, no sloppy tracks ridden, just fire roads, puddles and clouds. Legs suitably exercised, we returned to Gribdale and joined the day people as they turn the A19 into Wacky Races in their headlong flight to be home in time for Pointless.
Duller Than Golf
Alone.
Would you believe another grey and sunless day? Another Gribdale start, another scrounge about Guisborough Woods, alone this time, with only the drone to keep me company. Another section of trail has disappeared under the weight of fallen trees, as the crop is harvested. Muddy face, wet feet, back to Gribdale for a tailgate picnic, or actually a sheltering at the side of the car, out of the wind, sort of picnic.
Sloppy
The Breadlad, Howard.
The Breadlad needed a pre-ride trip to the bank in Guisborough - probably to loan them some cash, rumour has it he makes Croesus look like an impoverished pensioner, so we ended up riding in, yes, you’ve guessed it - Guisborough Woods. Joined by Howard today, who is having a couple of weeks off from attending to the sniffling masses. We introduced him to some of Guisborough’s newest trails, with careful cherry-picking to choose ones we had some chance of actually riding, as opposed to slithering down with less control than a scaffolder after twenty pints. We traversed the forest ending up at the One Man And His Dog area for a little play about, before making our way back at a higher level, exploring a couple of more trails on the way. I think we actually managed to shed our rain jackets at some point, which might count as a brief improvement in the weather.
Crepuscular
The Breadlad.
Quite a pleasant, sunny start to today, but, like the story of my life, early promise was not fulfilled. The clouds were down to the moor tops, a dank grey miasma, moistening all it slid over, blocking out the light. Just me and The Breadlad today, meeting in a surprisingly busy Danby village hall car park, as a convoy of ramblers disgorged from their cars. We decided to revisit the Jack Sledge track, which we had attempted a couple of rides ago in similar conditions to today, except last time it was with the added seasoning of fifty mile an hour winds and lashing rain. This time we thought we would reverse it, climbing up from Danby Botton, over Danby Rigg and down to the road at Fryupdale. A straightforward, three miles pedal on tarmac took us to East Cliff, where we began the climb up a bridleway, the bridleway we ought to have come down last time if we hadn’t found ourselves temporarily misplaced in the countryside. Never use the L word. The zig zag path through bracken, bogs and rocks was a carry for us mere mortals, cloud thickening again as we climbed higher, squelching through mini-swamps and wet bracken - what a way for The Breadlad to spend his birthday, half a century passed and he doesn’t look a day over sixty. The track down was a bit of a gem, narrow singletrack cutting diagonally down the hillside, not at all dry but not too muddy. The remainder of the ride was on more familiar tracks, moving across the valley to Danby Beacon, from where, if the route planning is exemplary, all trails lead to the Stonehouse Bakery.
Grim
Howard
Twenty two percent chance of rain, not bad odds until you realise it is still a hundred percent chance of getting wet. Me, Howard and constant drizzle met in Clay Bank car park and we were accompanied by Mr. D. for every inch of the ride. Another old favourite route, Clay Bank, Urra Moor, Incline Top, Burton Howe, the Old Coal Road, Turkey Nab, a couple of tracks in Battersby Plantation and the fire road drag back to Clay Bank. The trails in Battersby Plantation are new to Howard and holding up well despite the weather - if they were in Guisborough Woods it would be a different story, reduced to a mud-filled groove through the trees by over-enthusiastic bikers who don’t realise they are not riding a gravel and hard-core trail centre piste. Cold, grey and windy (just like my underwear), it was not the sort of day which lent itself to leisurely breaks in the nominal sunshine and other than a brief inspection of the Ingleby Incline art work, we barely stopped and found ourselves back in the car park before the clock had struck one
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