A Grand Start To The Year

First ride of the year and the sort of turn out normally reserved for something going free or a public appearance by a well known sex symbol. Do they even have sex symbols nowadays? Or has internet porn destroyed the magic? Anyway, a grand total of six bodies rocked up at Great Ayton ready for a banter-filled few hours around Guisborough Woods. It is a Bank Holiday today because New Years Day was on a Sunday, so a few of the “day scum” as The Ginger One describes people who work Monday to Friday, turned out. Such an eloquent turn of phrase that boy has, there are a few other classic statements he has uttered over the years (which can’t be repeated for fear of prosecution) - it makes you wonder if they even have schools, or indeed any form of education, in Darlington. Anyway, Rod, Miles, Bingo Bob, Simon T. and The Youth - yes, The Youth, getting his annual appearance in early this year. We climbed steadily to Roseberry Common, before shouldering the bikes up the steps onto Newton Moor, looking across to Roseberry Topping, the summit was rammed with folks taking advantage of the Bank Holiday and the pristine weather. There were a great many people about, even some other cyclists. We took ourselves off for a little jaunt around a few of Guisborough’s trails, most involved wet roots and some degree of mud leading to the occasional rider/ground interface and a scattering of industrial language. We made our way gradually to the open moorland of Codhill Heights and enjoyed a fast doubletrack descent, although it was straight into a low winter sun which left most of us riding like Stevie Wonder, an improvement some might say. We dropped down into Gribdale, which was mental, every available bit of space had a vehicle on it, the whole road leading to Oak Tree Farm lined with parked cars because nobody is willing to admit defeat and go somewhere else when the car park is full. The North York Moors covers 554 square miles - why does everyone want to go to the same three places? We rode up the fireroad towards Captain Cook’s Monument, which was busier than Whitby sea front, as folks got their yearly exercise quota polished off nice and early. A few less-frequented trails kept us amused for a while, riding on a bed of pine needles instead of mud, still the ever present threat of wet off-camber roots to catch out the unwary, as well as the fatal combination of wide handlebars and narrow gaps between the trees which had me on the floor quicker than The Breadlad could pounce on a dropped pound coin. First fall of the year, probably not the last. We emerged from the woods into the Gribdale traffic madness and continued down the road back to Great Ayton for a late lunch by the river.

Second Ride Of The Year.

The Youth turned out again, effectively doubling his appearance record for last year in the first three days of 2023. The weather was nothing like as pristine as yesterday, grey, dull and drizzly, we opted for Guisborough Woods again but from the other side, parking at Hutton Village We managed a fairly standard scrounge about the woods, introducing The Youth to some of the trails he has missed now he’s joined the ranks of the nine to fivers. Most of his sort have returned to work today, leaving the woods again free for shift workers and the retired to play in without hindrance - on weekdays anyway. The trails were, again, slightly muddy but not sink up to the hubs muddy by any means. Mainly a bit greasy on top. Climbing gradually to the top of the woods, with the occasional trail detour, meant we could descend back to Hutton Village. Screwball Scramble is now rideable in its entirety again, the fallen trees have either been removed or the trail now weaves through them - a bit of each by the look of things. Our penultimate trail was the splendidly named Shithouse Rat, we even sessioned some bits like young people would do. Managing to summon the energy for one last hill, we stormed/plodded/crawled* (*delete as appropriate) up the fire road to finish with Hips And Whips prior to a steady pedal back to the cars for a seasonal feast of Christmas cake and coffee.

"I'll Have Seven Quids Worth Of That There Mountain Biking Please."

The sixth of January and third ride, by my shonky maths, I have only rode for 50% of the year, must get my finger out. First trip to Hamsterley this year and first trip since my parking pass expired in November. I have been pondering whether to renew it or not, there weren't enough Hamsterley trips to justify the £49 last year, the fact it now costs £7 to park has made up my mind to renew, anything over seven trips and I’m in profit. I’m just not the biggest fan of trail centre riding, like fast food, it’s okay as an occasional treat but the whole man-made, graded, constructed within health and safety guidelines, sanitised, sign following experience isn’t really something I care to do regularly. A trail centre will never be the first place which springs to mind when I think about a ride, I prefer my mountain biking with a bit of unpredictability, routes which change with the seasons, not the groundhog days of groomed piste. But each to their own and today was a pleasant change from the relentless draggy mud of the moors and knowing exactly what will be around the next corner means you can push things a bit. Only me and Simon T. today, The Youth was intending to go for the triple but allowed himself to be distracted by some other pastime. We rode the latest incarnation of our Hamsterley Hotlap, which is issue 2.3 or something, starting with Section 13, Boneshaker, Special K and Brainfreeze to the Grove Link. Climbing again to the holy quintet of Polties Last Blast, K Line, Transmission, Accelerator and Nitrous back to the valley floor. Us legs and lungs guys are without a doubt in the minority nowadays, leccy bikes are the modus operandi for the trail centre cognoscenti. We headed back down the road and climbed again to do Pike’s Teeth, then we gave Oddsox a swerve in favour of another run around Pike’s Teeth before heading back to the car park to part with seven quid of my pension money for the privilege of riding the trails. The off-piste trail network appears to have grown over the past few months, there are tempting tracks disappearing into the trees at regular intervals; a Hamsterley off-piste day is on the cards for when things dry up a bit.