Welcome to 2021.

 Welcome To 2021.

Welcome to 2021, as Chubby Brown might have said, "You're f**#ing welcome to it." Lockdowns, snow, ice, mud, cold, wet, no cafes, no pubs; at least the bike shops can stay open and our legs can keep turning, albeit in a socially-distanced, meet one person not from your household sort of fashion. 

Winter arrived, as they say, with vengeance, the first two rides of 2021 turned into epics of pushing and carrying through knee deep snow, what they lacked in length they made up for in arduousness, even some of the downhill bits were impossible owing to North Yorkshire's answer to sugar snow. Although, in retrospect, attempting to ride over the highest point of the moors may have been a bit optimistic. We did, however, have the wisdom to recognise when we were beaten and escape routes were utilised without procrastination. 

Five rides up to now, one a local ride which doesn't count, three on the moors which were truncated by weather conditions and one normal length ride which was mainly on ice-covered fire roads in Guisborough Woods. Possibly stretching the definition of staying local, which is only a guideline anyway but in the one local ride, from my door, on cycle paths and minor roads, I passed more people than in the other four rides altogether. A lot of pedestrians on the cycle paths walk two abreast with no concept of social distancing, refusing to move over when cyclists approach, or they stand chatting on opposite sides of the path, very nice social distancing, except anyone using the path is forced to pass between them, with no chance of keeping two metres away. Inconsiderate morons or just lacking forethought? I'll let you decide. All of which plus some spatially unaware motorists who evidently believe they drive a vehicle the width of a torpedo, as they pass inches away from maiming the sucker on the bike who doesn't matter because he doesn't pay road tax and shouldn't be there anyway. I'm sure this is preaching to the converted but road tax was abolished in 1937, it hasn't existed for eighty three years, drivers, me included, pay vehicle excise duty based on the emissions of the vehicle, low or zero emissions equals low or no payments. Us cyclists are guilty of many emissions, fortunately none of them taxable. Coming back to the point, the chances of spreading or contracting covid must be significantly less on a wide open moor with only a handful of people on it's paths than on an urban cycle path thronged with virus-ridden humanity, steadfastly refusing to be the one who deviates to maintain social distance. And if I have to drive a short distance to access the moors, that counts as essential travel to me. 

The rides don't need blogging, the pictures can tell the story. It snowed, we pushed, we capitulated and slid back to the car parks. That's pretty much it. For those really interested in where some men on the verge of middle-age are blundering about, the ride names are the Strava names, Strava pseudonym Lordy Lardy.

First Ride Of 2021.

And hopefully the coldest, wettest, shortest and most snow drifts ride of 2021.

Turns out it wasn't.

Another Captain Oates Shorty.

"I'm going outside, I may be some time..."

We went outside, we weren't some time, never had to eat a husky or build an igloo and were back home in time for a late lunch.

I can see my house from here. This must be
 classed as a local ride. Right?

It's A Local Ride For Local People.

Passed dozens of people, it's safer on the moors. End of story.

Ice Breaking.

When you want frozen you get mud; when you want mud you get ice. Nature is having a laugh.

Never Trust A Weather Forecast.

The rain started four hours early...