Hamsterley? Don't mind if I do...

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Ginger One, The Trainee, The Other Fireman.

8th December route.

The country was visited by a blustery chap called Desmond over the weekend, leaving his legacy of famine, flood and pestilence (well, maybe not the famine or pestilence) but definitely a swathe of misery over the North of England, the North West suffered particularly badly, news reports from Keswick, venue for many a Terra Trailblazers adventure over the years were terrible to see. Our venue for today, Hamsterley Forest, was closed by fallen trees blocking the access roads on Saturday but had reopened by today, Tuesday, although, as we were to find several times during the ride the trails still bore the effects of a weekend of 60mph+ winds.

The car park was fairly busy with like minded folk disgorging bikes from cars and vans, under a rainbow which signalled the end of the showers for a few hours. Our trademark, Edited Highlights Of Hamsterley route was the plan, a cunning plan which visits the best of the ‘official’ tracks in as little miles as possible. The cheeky trails which run through the trees are nothing but a mudfest at this time of year and best left to those who enjoy that sort of thing. Our route starts with Pikes Teeth, the latest of the improved tracks, always fun once the first climb of the day is despatched, the lower section now featuring a flowing selection of berms and drop offs. The Other Fireman’s first visit to Hamsters and he was impressed. From the bottom of Pikes Teeth, we rode along the fire road, dropping down to the river at Rocky Road, crossing the water at the bridge, then following the riverside track to another fire road climb. Up here to Route 666, which we always ride straight past because it’s simply not worth the effort. Oddsox is more like it, the first section is fast and open, huge berms with roller coaster descents before changing character and nipping into the woods to weave between the trees, eventually dropping down to the valley bottom near the exit of Nitrous.

A brief regroup to regain our breath and point out the path jump at the end of Nitrous to the novices and we began the long climb to Transmission, the muddy, rooty section not going dab-free for anyone today despite some sterling efforts. Pausing at the sacrificial altar for a votive energy bar or two, we marvelled at how well the day was turning out, a Simpsons sky above the trees, tracks only slightly damp - what more could we ask for. Transmission came and went, followed by Accelerator - so good we did it twice. At the entrance to the final section, Nitrous, another cyclist managed a spectacular over the bars on the slabby intro rocks, landing heavily before his bike added insult to injury by flying in the air and crashing down on his prone body. He put a brave face on it and rose laughing and joking, top man, I think I would have laid there until some nice men in a helicopter scraped me off the track and dropped me into a hospital bed. Leaving a respectable time for the stunt man to reach the bottom we followed without incident but with lots of enjoyment on the varied track which culminates in the aforementioned path jump, followed by a swoopy bit of bermage. We did not feel the need to miss out the berms and ride directly across the field as some retards have taken to doing in the hope of recording better Strava times.

Another gruesome climb followed after we crossed the river and made our way up to Section 13, our NSP (Natural Stopping Point) at the Descend huts was almost mandatory, tired legs and for me, the extra weight of my new Chunky Monkey tyres making it all seem extra hard today. Section 13 was running well, The Other Fireman succumbed to some loose gravel on the last bend, managing to fall off in front of some bloke with a camera - he’ll learn. The next section - Boneshaker is probably the most old school of all the official tracks, basically a muddy groove, filled with rocks and roots, which weaves down the hillside, although a fallen tree blocking the trail give it a bit of extra interest today. The new ‘improved’ finish, which is not an improvement and feels as though it never finishes was given a miss in favour of the original ending and a marginally longer climb on the road to Special K. Another Hamster’s original, Special K now has a vicious bomb hole and a wooden wall ride, the wall ride best avoided when it is damp, which is most of the time to be honest, as The Ginger One found out one day. He found it particularly difficult to count the money he never spends with a broken finger.

We all made the bottom with bones unbroken, ready to start on the ultimate section - Brainfreeze which first involved negotiating another of Storm Desmond’s cast offs. The wooden drop off, Brainfreeze’s, main feature was unsullied by our tyres, the chicken run living up to it’s name as we all replaced discretion with valour. Only the Skill’s Loop remained, even this contained a fallen tree, the remainder of the loop was fine, although most of the old North Shore stuff has been removed. It was a fitting end to a fun-filled few hours, a route of some brevity but still in excess of 2,000 feet of ascent - so I suppose that gave us an equal amount of descent, worth every lung-bursting, heart-thumping, thigh-burning pedal turn against the cruel mistress gravity.

Another Damp Day

Mountain Bike Ride

The Fireman, The Other Fireman.

3rd December route.

Less than promising would probably be the best way to describe today’s forecast, unless you you have been promised a day of unceasing dreich, then it would be absolutely correct. Undaunted, we still met up at Pinchinthorpe Visitor Centre car park, determined to show the weather who was boss, it was more drizzle than proper rain, waterproofed and raring to go, we flung ourselves at the forest, me and a brace of firemen. One being our usual fireman, the other a colleague returning to the mountain biking fold after some time in the wilderness but he has a bike and some legs so he exceeds the Terra Trailblazers criteria.

A gentle start from the visitor centre following the old rail track, the slippery, slidy hill past Bousedale House to Home Farm presaging the rest of the ride. The Concrete Road led us painfully to the top of the woods and we continued climbing on wet and soggy tracks until we encountered our first fallen tree. Some awesome winds have visited over the past few days and there are trees laid about the forest as though an inebriated giant has staggered through after a session in Guisborough’s hostelries. Low cloud in the valley almost obliterated the view of the town, combined with the recent felling activity in the middle foreground, it looked like we were staring down at the smoking remains of Guisborough following the apocalypse.

As we continued, the sky lightened and the drizzle almost stopped drizzling, rounding the bend after Highcliffe, another fine view unfolded, low cloud clinging to the trees below us. Our route continued across Codhill Heights, pleasantly downhill for us unlike the two guys we passed who were heading upward on cyclocross bikes - been there: done that - and it’s not easy. A brief climb up from Sleddale before we made our up Percy Cross Rigg, more climbing, before the final drop down the Unsuitables gate, a scant reward for the amount of ascent but welcome nonetheless. Quite thoroughly drenched by now, mainly from the amount of surface water around, we made our way across Newton Moor to Little Roseberry the smaller of brother of Roseberry Topping and minced our way down a wet and slippy descent. Some cyclist/ground interfaces may have occurred but we best not dwell on that.

The Rye Banks bridleway from Roseberry Common is narrow, muddy and at times, encroached by gorse bushes, the utmost skill, technique and concentration is required to ride this track without skidding or falling off - needless to say some of us had picked themselves off the floor and out of the furze more than once before we reached the bottom. All in the name of finding another route to the pub at Newton Under Roseberry in preparation for the Xmas dinner ride.

Descent filed away for future reference, we passed the pub and spent a short time risking life and limb on the A173 until we could turn off onto the track to Bousdale Farm. Luckily we had no intention of following the track all the way to the farm, which involves the sort of ascent best undertaken with sherpas, legs and lungs were taking a dim view of that type of behaviour, a handy fire road brought us back through the woods to Pinchinthorpe Visitor Centre. The highlight of the ride - the cafe - came next and soon we were happily tucking into calorific goodies as we dripped muddy water onto the floor.

Flatlining With The Pensioner

Mountain Bike Ride.

The Pensioner.

2nd December Route

In deference to The Pensioner’s recent lack of activity, a bit of gentle breaking in was required, hence a flat ride was mooted and it doesn’t come any flatter than forty five metres of ascent in 25 miles. The Seaton and Hartlepool marina run, I occasionally do on the cross bike was pressed into service as a horizontal expedition on mountain bikes.  Heading away from Billingham, we passed the chemical factory where one of us infrequently works and the other simply turned up and took the money for thirty years or so. Quiet roads and cyclepaths took us to Cowpen Woodland Park, which is much improved from what we called it as kids - Stinky Beck, although parts do still run alongside the sewage works. A farm track led us to Greatham, a small village on the outskirts of mine and The Pensioner’s old home town - Hartlepool. 

Riding through the village and over the rail crossing brought us to the site of the old factory, latterly owned by R.H.M. Foods, then Sharwoods but to anyone of our generation it will always be the Cerebos salt factory and the place where Bisto was invented. The whole area between Greatham and Cowpen Bewley is salt flats where salt industry thrived since mediaeval times but no longer, the factory is now reduced to piles of rubble. A public right of way runs through the ruins and across to Greatham Creek, utilising the dykes which constrain the creek, although the inner dykes have now been deliberately breached allowing the water to flood the surrounding marshes during extra high tides, a new initiative to prevent flooding upstream. Exposed on the flat lands we caught every bit of wind and progress across the soggy grass was slow, particularly as the dykes meander, taking a circuitous route to reach the creek, where a few basking seals eyed us curiously.

A brief bit of busy tarmac, past the tioxide plant, which churns out the pigment for white paint and has done for as long as we could remember, then we turned off onto The Zinc Works road, which no longer has a zinc works but does have what has to be the smelliest chemical plant on Teesside, God knows what they make but it stinks like the bowels of Hell, imagine sour milk and plastic being burned together on an open fire and you could be getting close. Gratefully we turned away from the malodorous stench and along a bridleway cutting across Seaton Carew golf course, eventually arriving in the seaside village of Seaton Carew, (twinned with Panama, according to the graffiti) as busy as could be expected for an East coast resort in December. The magnificently paved promenade follows the coastline to Hartlepool marina, the noise of halyards slapping masts in the wind a constant chatter in the background as we negotiated the lock gates which stood between us and the cafes. The Pensioner compared the marina unfavourably with Monaco - obviously somewhere he’s jet-setting lifestyle takes him on a regular basis - but to our untrained eyes the boats looked equally lavish and expensive.

Fed and watered we retraced our tyre tracks to Seaton Carew, against the wind this time, the open marshes of Greatham Creek were eschewed in favour of a road ride back to Greatham village, from where the outward bound route was followed back to Billingham.

Two Rides with The Trainee

Mountain Bike Ride

The Trainee

25th November route

1st December route

A brace of rides for me and The Trainee, while everyone else found themselves something less wet to do. Most everywhere is saturated by now, not exactly loads of gloopy mud but plenty of standing water, lashing out on that Hope bottom bracket may have been a wise investment (I hope).

Our first venture out took us to Sheepwash, the ultimate countryside experience for Teessiders who don’t like to stray more than five hundred metres from their vehicles. Originally a stop on the Hambledon Drove Road where the animals could be watered, it’s nowadays a popular picnic spot. An uphill start on tarmac warmed us up nicely for a blast across Scarth Wood Moor, which was followed by a ride down the steps in Clain Wood, the steps were something of a surprise to The Trainee, being lengthy and slippery, apparently sphincter looseningly so. A more amenable track led us to Harfa House or Cow Shit Farm as it will forever be known to us following The Ginger One’s unfortunate slip in the slurry back in 2004 (TTB 12). The farmyard is much improved nowadays, we passed through without incident and continued on the Scugdale Road to Heathwaite, where we began ascending again, up to Live Moor Plantation and into Faceby Plantation for a run along some superb singletrack. Dropping through a soggy field brought us to Bank Lane, a puddle-strewn mud-fest leading to the village of Faceby. We stuck to tarmac for the rest of the ride, calling at Swainby Village Store for sandwiches and a chat with Chris, who keeps us informed of all the latest news in the village and surrounding area. Full of food, only a couple of road miles stood between us and Sheepwash and the small problem of Scarth Nick, everyone’s favourite 20% climb, steep enough but thankfully not too long.

Our second ride as a duo occurred a few days later, an unprepossessing start, rain and low cloud which gradually improved to mere low cloud. Essentially a recce for the Xmas dinner ride, we set off from Great Ayton and headed to Fletcher’s Farm, passing the coffee shop, although we were too early for coffee, twenty four hours too early, it’s not open on tuesdays. A gradual uphill through Aireyholme Farm took us to Roseberry Common, Newton Moor and Roseberry Topping blanketed in low cloud. Continuing into Guisborough Woods, we meandered on fire roads before climbing The Unsuitables; the gate at the top a welcome sight, where we paused to suck in some oxygen. A damp Black Nab came next, most of the route under a thin film of water, spraying us and giving us few hairy moments on the wet rock. Another speedy, wet, descent followed, Codhill Heights, just in case we were not damp enough already, the ascent from Sleddale to Percy Cross Rigg, viewed from afar, filled The Trainee with trepidation but its bark was worse than its bite and it was not long before we were heading back along Percy Cross Rigg, returning (to the amazement of The Trainee) to the gate at the top of The Unsuitables. A short uphill pull took us to Les’s, a Guisborough Woods downhill of many years standing, the top section recently improved further with a nicely bermed finishing section. Returning to Roseberry Common, we rode downhill, around the northern flank of Roseberry Topping, heading downhill on a filthy Roseberry Lane to the A173 at Newton Under Roseberry, where we casually wandered into the King’s Head and booked our Xmas meal. The staff were unfazed by mud-splattered mountain bikers, which is just as well considering a dozen or so are expecting to be fed there on 15th December.

November Round Up and Video

November Round Up and Video

Click here for video

November started with a better day than August could manage, of course it could not last and we descended through wind and water to snow and back to water, the last ride of the month in bright sunshine but many degrees colder than the first ride

Fourteen rides, two hundred and forty six miles with almost twenty three and a half thousand feet of ascent, not bad for the penultimate month of the year. Plenty of riders out this month too, a whole nine different bodies dragged away from the fire and the central heating to battle everything the elements can throw at them.

For anyone who is interested and does not already know, we are having our annual Xmas dinner ride on the 15th of December, hopefully The Kings Head at Newton Under Roseberry.

Menu here;

Hard to believe these pictures were taken in the same month.

A Filthy Day At Danby

Mountain Bike Ride

The Fireman

24th November route

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.

White Stuff Everywhere.

Mountain Bike Ride

The Bread Lad, The Ginger One, The Youth.

23rd November 2015 route

Following a weekend of wind, rain, snow and frost the hills above Kildale were almost picturesque with a light dusting of white, The Incline a white line cleaving icing sugar heather on its journey to the valley. We assembled in a frozen station car park, a whole four of us today, not a bad turn out for a winter’s morning, but shame on those still under their duvets, wallowing in the smell of their own fart gas and scratching their scrotums.

The usual faff ensued before we set off up the road, passing the cafe and heading for Little Kildale and our first ascent of the day, what mountain biking’s favourite crumpet fondler calls Three Sting Hill, a fitting title for this ever steepening lump of tarmac. The Youth though he would blast up the hill and show these old gadgies a thing or two, it might have worked if he had counted the stings properly. We waited at Warren Farm for him to catch up. A quick blast down into Leven Vale, passing the old chimney of the Warren Moor Ironstone Mine, which closed in 1874, about the same time The Pensioner started smoking. Through the gate, we entered the Field Of Heavy Gravity, an age old nemesis for The Terra Trailblazers, a seemingly flat field which gradually saps energy and the only sound is gears being clicked down - from the other side of the valley the true picture is apparent, the field is at a decent angle but it’s the soggy grass which does the damage and rarely is it dry. As we paused for some weight shedding urination, a dead bird was discovered, quite brightly coloured but well beyond the boundaries of our collective ornithological knowledge - found out the next day it was a red legged partridge, so probably edible. Unable to prevaricate any longer, we puffed and panted up the field then shouldered bikes for the steep, broken track to the summit of Kildale Moor, the equally steep and broken downhill to Baysdale was exciting and mostly ridden, although The Youth gave a few demonstrations in rapid over the handlebars dismounting.

Baysdale definitely had a soggy bottom today and wet feet were inescapable as we splattered through the mire, occasionally riding the firmer sections, things eventually improved when he hit some better tracks, climbing steeply through the woods,then out onto the open moor toward Great Hograh Head. It was here the light dusting of snow seen from afar became something less than picturesque, namely a drag, either slipping and sliding in frozen ruts or cutting through fresh snow. Coupled with the slight incline of the track and the bitter headwind, progress was not rapid, even the usually enjoyable descent to Armoth Wath was taken at a much more cautious pace than usual. Some more snowy uphill took us to the ancient barrow of Burton Howe, the cairn marking the end of today’s climbing, once The Youth had caught the old timers up, we celebrated with a snowball fight. Continuing on the Cleveland Way, tobogganing along the frozen track, we decided to get our own back on Turkey Nab and ride it in the downward direction. Getting lower the snow was left behind and The Ginger One suddenly became Danny Hart, letting rip through the slippery slabs and broken rocks as though he was racing to put his name down for an overtime shift before Oz got there. His recent record of pinch flats and the thought of puncture repairs in these sub-zero temperatures, ought have engendered a bit more prudence. But he’s from Darlington; it would be easier teaching a halibut to sew.

From Bank Foot Farm, a few miles of tailwind assisted tarmac took us gratefully back to Kildale where we piled into the warmth of Glebe Cottage for calorific comestibles to replenish our depleted energy supplies, them snowball fights taking out of you.