Ride 036.

Date:   8th December 2004            Distance: 12.5 miles

An almost gentle ride to introduce another indolent process operator to the joys and pleasures of off-road cycling. Kendo joined me and Howard for a pootle about the moors; his first buttock/bike seat interface for many a year, since a drunken croggy and a concrete bollard resulted in a trip to Casualty. Naturally there would be none of that today – he had a whole bike to himself at least. 

Once again we left the blue skies of Teesside to reach a mist-shrouded Square Corner, the fabled North York Moors views hidden by cold and uninviting murk. Swainby Shooting House was our first objective on the is it/ isn’t it? legal track, the adhesiveness of the muddy patches surprising our trainee, soon slowing his whippet-like start to a crawl. He was more enamoured with the downhill section into and through Clain Woods, floating through the slippy ruts and loose rocks like a seasoned downhiller. As with most good things, this ended too soon and we found ourselves panting upward onto Scarth Wood Moor, getting a breathless close up of the ‘Table And Chairs, before a fun cruise back down the tarmac access road.  

On into Osmotherley and a welcome cup of coffee, or it would have been had the café not been closed “due to unforeseen circumstances” Luckily the general dealers provided us, Kendo especially, with some much-needed carbs for the homeward leg. Returning along the road heading to Cod Beck reservoir, Kendo found out the embarrassing way that ruts have a bad habit of ditching unsuspecting riders. It’s all very well falling off on some moorland track but on a public road with oncoming traffic? Fortunatlely only his pride suffered any injury.  

We crossed the stream at Sheepwash, Howard and I began our usual fruitless attempt to ride up the steep rock staircase – it was a very brief attempt and we soon joined Kendo in the pushing squad. Back on level ground, Kendo’s nether regions began to exact some revenge for being forced to spend two hours on a bike seat rather than a big, wide, control room chair and he was forced to dismount the rockier sections until the relative comfort of tarmac persuaded him to pedal the last mile or so, past Chequers café (closed also) back to the cars. 

Not a bad little introduction to the simple enjoyment to be found with two wheels and a pair of legs. A rubber ring may have made things a little more comfortable for the drive home but we can’t think of everything.

Height Profile: (click to enlarge)

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