Ride 034.

Date:   19th November 2004            Distance: 15 miles

Maybe it was something to do with the biting north easterly wind but as predicted moments before, the first thing Bob said when he got out of his car was:

“I don’t know what I’m doing here?”  

How could he complain? One of those winter days, blue sky, firm tracks, the odd skating rink to contend with but a far better attempt at weather than some of 2004’s ‘summer’ days. 

Li’l Col joined us again, undaunted by his last ride and the ensuing cramp. The only no-show was Granny–Ring Robson but we weren’t surprised, he’s been a consistent omission since early August, seduced by settee and trash TV. We left Lordstones car-park, safely crossing the ‘Cattle Grid Of Doom’ which Bob previously fell in. Straight up the bridleway on Carlton Bank, a hard start by any standards, a devastating start by our standards. The views from the top were sublime, blue sky over autumnal colours all around, further east the Pennines lightly snow capped. A nice downhill, through frozen puddles and ice-rimed rocks brought us out above the crags at Scugdale. A long drag up Barkers Ridge was enlivened by Col and Oz giving practical demonstrations of how to dive over the handlebars when the front wheel disappears  down a muddy hole. Heading toward Arnesgill Ridge we turned off on the is it/isn’t it legal track across Whorlton Moor to Swainby Shooting House.  

Refuelled we left the shooting house and made our way to Clain Wood on Limekiln Bank. A speedy descent through the woods was enjoyed by all, although the icy conditions and the memory of Bob’s previous bike/ditch interaction meant a little caution was employed. Back on familiar territory we cruised the leaf-strewn singletrack through the bottom edge of the woods, through a field and a ford before hitting the tarmac at Huthwaite Green and the grind up the bank to Raikes Farm. The dogs as vocal as ever. Continuing to Scugdale Hall, we dismounted and hauled our bikes up the steep, boggy bridleway until we were once again on top of Barker’s Crags. 

Returning on the bridleway to Brian’s Pond, the winter sunlight had thawed the ground just enough to make things too sloppy for comfort, we retraced our tyre-tracks over Carlton Bank, the wind searching out exposed flesh to remind the us winter has arrived. High above us parascenders glided, seeking thermals, how cold must they be up there? A final bit of singletrack, winding through the white-capped heather, preceded an eye-streaming plummet back to the café at Lordstones.  

Coffee and cakes all round, faces glowing with the heat from the fire. A real class day, easily one of the best this year.

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