Monthly Update

September 2008

3^rd. Only me and Dave today, ready for another run round the Guissy woods singletrack. Made our way up the fire roads and out onto Roseberry Common then followed the singletrack to the Bluebell woods, the summer deluges have helped the vegetation to reach jungle proportions in places, making the flowing singletrack more a blind crash through brambles and bracken. A little road work took us through Great Ayton, where we struggled to pass the chip shop with it’s tempting odour. At Dikes Lane we turned right and plodded uphill to The Red Run, a quick look down the damp and eroded red slope confirmed our worst fears - we are cowards. Continuing through Mill Bank Woods we sought solace in coffee and toasted teacakes at Glebe Cottage, to give us strength for the push up New Row. Pedalling again we rode up and down Percy Cross Rigg, then a cheeky little run along the Cleveland Way path brought us to Highcliffe, we finished down the track known locally as Lovers Lane, which is better than I remember it. Naturally the combination of narrow, damp, rooty, singletrack and lack of technical ability led to the inevitable dabs, skids and rider/tree interfaces.

8^th. Meeting up at a grim and grey Square Corner, Black Hambleton’s summit shrouded in mist, we thought our luck with the weather had finally run out. Things improved slightly as we ground up the Mad Mile, failing once again to achieve a dab-free ascent, by the time we approached Kepwick Bank on the Drove Road the sun put in an appearance, we turned left toward Arden Bank, then across a rather sodden Dale Town Common and down to Noddle End and a slippery limestone descent to Peak Scar Woods. Things became a bit vague in Cliff Wood, our original track had been badly churned up, courtesy of our equine brethren, so a likely looking alternative was followed to the point where we were completely lost with a fifty fifty chance of heading in the right direction, naturally we chose the wrong one, heading away from our destination, Hawnby, until a gap in the trees revealed our whereabouts. A quick about turn and we were soon enjoying the sunshine in the tea garden of the Hawnby café. Mention must be made here of the excellent specials available from the café, pork and apple burger - made from locally reared rare breed pigs - and chips, £3! Chief taster Simon declared it well worth every penny. Perhaps not quite what Lance might have eaten to ascend those Alpine mountain passes but it fuelled Simon and Oz up for an ascent of Murton Bank and how often do we see Lance Armstrong panting his lungs out flogging up there? A steady ride along the road to Sneck Yate, then we followed the Drove Road back to Square Corner, riding the Mad Mile in a more amenable direction to finish the day’s fun.

10^th. Another route similar to the first ride this month, missing out the Lover’s Lane bit owing to time constraints. The virtual monsoon is taking it’s toll on the trails, they are in the sort of condition we’d normally expect around the end of February or something. Very gloopy.

17^th. Started from Kildale just for a change, me, Simon and Howard set off for the Field Of Heavy Gravity, which was particularly heavy today, pedalling through a swamp would best describe the experience. Over the moor to Baysdale was pleasant enough and soon we were plunging down the road to Hob Hole, followed by a plunge through the ford, then steeply upward on tarmac to the John Breckon Road. Our ride across Great and Little Hograh moors was marred somewhat by the sucking wet peat of the track but we were soon at Berns Bridge admiring the simple but heartfelt memorial to Grandad Bill. Crossing Baysdale Moor, we pedalled to Armouth Wath, nice but rocky downhill, then ascended to Battersby Moor via Middle Head Top and Burton Howe. Soon we picked up the Cleveland Way track which led us rapidly back to Kildale and the ever welcoming Glebe Cottage.

19^th. This ride was an exact copy of this month’s first ride, done for the benefit of Simon, who hadn’t had the pleasure of some of the tracks. Howard and Oz deserted us to go and play on their motorbikes...

21^st. A road ride, would you believe? No we haven’t turned to the dark side, it was all for “charidee innit, yerknoworramean like?” Somehow we’d found ourselves volunteered for The Butterwick Hospice charity bike ride, a 26 mile route around the quiet lanes and villages to the west of Stockton. Most pleasant it was too, particularly as it started and ended at a club, giving a chance of post-ride alcoholic refreshment. Around 70 riders attended ranging from first timers on clunkers to roadies on carbon race bikes, the atmosphere was relaxed and non-competitive, or it was at our end of the peleton, the roadies disappeared from view within the first ten minutes and were next spotted in the bar. We affected a more leisurely pace, mainly because it seemed easier to follow someone who seemed to know where he was going rather than stop and read the route directions at every junction.

30^th. A full 9 days since the last outing, plenty of time to recover from the Charity Ride and time for Oz to have a minor mental breakdown and lash out on a new bicycle, turning up at Dalby Forest with a shiny Scott Spark, carbon fibre, full suspension, genetically engineered to be so light it actually floats away if no-one sits on it. Good job it was waterproof. The weather was evil, continuous rain, every inch of the way. We set off to do The Red Route, Simon a Dalby virgin, first a cup of coffee “to see if the rain stops”. It didn’t, not at all, not even for a half hour interlude. Everyone was soaked through despite modern miracle fabrics, the roots were treacherous, even the rocky tracks were slimy enough to be treated with caution, the sandy grit demolished brake pads within minutes, one brand new set lasting a record breaking three miles in Howard’s case. After completing the majority of the route we bailed at one of the escape points and had a fire road descent to the (thankfully still open) cafe to warm ourselves up with coffee and soup. Naturally this was the cue for the rain to cease, the sky to clear and what’s that orange thing up there? Oh it’s the sun, well thanks very much North Yorkshire.

But not too worry because Simon has found us a worthy alternative to getting soaked on bikes - sit on top kayaks. Now we can get wet without 20 miles of riding, the first wave gets it all over with in one fell swoop but the exhilaration of riding back in on the surf makes it all worth while. Or, on flat days, just paddling out into the bay and catching the wake from the 300,000 tonne oil tankers heading for Teesport. Watch this space for reports of Simon’s forthcoming epic paddle down the River Tees from Darlington to the Tees Barrage, or perhaps the local papers for reports grossly inexperienced kayakers being rescued from the Dogger Bank or somewhere which is only ever heard of in the shipping forecasts.

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