What a month November turned out to be, after two rides the weather gods decided we’d had enough fun and hit us with a few feet of snow, effectively keeping us off our bikes for the remainder of the month. The white stuff was pretty much thigh deep on the moors and knee deep in the forests, not conducive to happy pedalling. And the first week of December is passing in the same fashion, the forecast is for it to last into the New Year, let’s hope not eh?

9^th. After being rained off a few days previously, today was always going to be a “ride whatever the weather” day, although there were a few misgivings at a rain-lashed Square Corner. Luckily things improved as we started riding and by the time we reached Chequers it was almost pleasant. A quick scoot along High Lane brought us to a bit of entertainment in the shape of the stepped rocky downhill which leads to Sheepwash. Our skills in the technical handling/downhill department were tested and found mainly lacking but at least we gave it a go. Which is more than could be said for the pensioner and Captain Slow, the trainee pensioner, who slunk down the hill pushing their bikes. After the ford at Sheepwash, we made our way to Clain Woods for more fun on the Cleveland Way steps, a covering of leaves over wet wood making the descent a bit more cautious than usual. Crossing we Scugdale we went through Huthwaite Green and met our first bit of uphill of the day, ascending into Live Wood, then very steeply up a short section of the Cleveland Way steps, accompanied all the way by non-stop grumbling from the trainee pensioner. Luckily for the rest of us he was too far behind to hear clearly, at times he’s so far behind Derek Acorah would struggle to hear him. Soon we were heading in a more amenable direction, into Faceby before climbing again to Whorl Hill Farm, then a muddy descent to Whorlton, pace quickening on the road to Swainby and its’ welcoming café. It was only reaching civilization we realised Simon had come dressed as some kind of gay bandit, Buffs covering most of his face plus a pair of yellow glasses, probably the height of fashion in Darlington. “Yellow glasses? Glasses? That are yellow? Well who’d have thought such a thing…”

Reluctantly we resaddled and made our way via road and bridle path back to the bottom of the Clain Wood steps we’d so gracelessly descended a couple of hours previously. This time it was upwards, three coronaries and a potential stroke later we were at the top and pedalling back to Sheepwash, a quick blast around Cod Beck reservoir and back onto High Lane, where the weather caught up with us and gave us a brief dampening down before blowing over and letting us finish our ride in relative dryness.

16^th. So there I am driving along Alum House Lane heading for Carlton bank and there’s Climbin’ Simon parked up at the bottom having failed to get up the bank owing to a covering of ice. Little did we realise this was to be a harbinger of conditions for the rest of the month. Eventually we gathered ourselves at the top of the bank, Howard finding out what the real world is like after a month languishing on a rig off the coast of Nigeria and Andy, bravely turning up on his wife’s pink bike while his was being repaired. We set off down our newest favourite track, which was very entertaining and into the woods which were mostly too muddy to be entertaining. Following a now well-worn path we ended up at Swainby café for crumpets and coffee and, as the last route, we were soon at the bottom of the Clain Wood steps, however we did the brave thing and rode up Limekiln Bank, giving our legs and lungs the sort of workout they’ve been missing the past few rides. With nauseating slowness Swainby Shooting House came into view as we pedalled steadily, the damp sandy track sucking the energy from our legs. It was a similar story crossing Whorlton Moor toward Arnesgill Ridge but pleasant in the glorious sunshine. A temperature inversion toward Hawnby left the Hawby Hump (Hawnby Hill) sticking out of the cloud like an island. A bit of wind assistance helped us along Arnesgill Ridge and over Carlton Bank, very welcome as our legs were beginning to feel the pace by now. At least the last bit is downhill, all the way back to the cars. And then it was cautiously down Carlton Bank, hoping this morning’s ice had defrosted.