Ride 026.

Date: 30th July 2004                Distance: 21.25 miles

A grey, lukewarm morning in North Yorkshire, five equally grey and lukewarm mountain bikers assemble at the Square Corner car park on the Osmotherley to Hawnby road in preparation for another Terra Trailblazers outing. The lure of filthy lucre kept Simon within Terra for some overtime, more money for him to spend on the special calorie-free lager allegedly found in Darlington.  

When we could no longer justify standing about admiring Chris’s new bike (still shiny) we headed east along the road prior to a sharp left onto the is it/isn’t it legal track to Swainby Shooting House and along to the definitely legal Arnesgill Ridge. A surprising amount of water about on the moors today, deep puddles splashing everything with an abrasive mixture of sand and water; the tracks damp and cloying. At least the cloud begins to lift and the sun puts in an appearance.  Bob suddenly asks if anyone has any Vaseline because (he adds hurriedly) his new shorts are chafing, although he may not have put it quite as politely as that. Nobody admits to carrying any type of petroleum based product for a ride on the moors and the unsavoury imagine of Bob smearing his hirsute nether- regions as we politely avert our gazes was a mental picture we could have done without. 

The descent from the Bilsdale transmitter mast past Low Thwaites to Moor Gate was two miles of pure pleasure Chris even went so far as to let go of the brake levers at some point. Straight across the road and follow the bridleway through Hazel Head Wood, across the river Rye, then steeply up to Hill End House. This little incline merely a precursor for the next hill, the dreaded Arden Bank. Brutally steep, only Paul cleaned it today, everyone else requiring a little breather and a chance to wipe the stinging sweat from our eyes. As we climb higher, the weather decides to do a passable imitation of summer, blue sky, blazing sun, the whole works. Finally back on the relative flatness of the Drove Road we lay on the grass and devoured energy bars, sucking the last drops of liquid from our Camelbacks and bottles and tried to ignore Bob’s graphic description of the anal agony he was suffering.   

A straightforward but not too energetic couple of miles along the Drove Road saw us regrouping at the cairn signifying the start of the Mad Mile, Chris turned up eventually after giving himself a practical demonstration of the benefits of falling onto heather as opposed to rocks. Everything was okay – he hadn’t scratched his new bike. The mile came and went as it always does in the downward mode – speedily, although since some of us went riding in the Lakes it doesn’t really feel like a steep, rocky track anymore. Enjoyable nonetheless. 

Passing the cars, we continued directly to Chequers for coffee and scones, sitting outside in the pleasant sunshine, hoping the food will give us the energy to ride back up the hill to the car park. Twenty one and half miles and three seasons in one day – Chris’s longest ride yet and a good christening for his new bike.

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