Sunday 18th March 2007 and Jason got a surprise bonus after his young'un fell out of a tree, meaning Jay didn't have to take him to play in his junior football team. And that meant he could enjoy another couple of hours with John and Terry on his second Reivers ride in 8 days.

The three of us arrived at Stamfordham Village Green in plenty of time for the 10.00am start, with only one Reiver present (Steve, from Fourstones - will someone please tell me who's who amongst the Reivers?). We thought we'd got it wrong again but around 10 Gavin, today's Ride Leader, turned up. After the usual 10 minutes or so preparation we five were just about ready to leave when Ray arrived. That gave us a comfy half dozen and that was it, after waiting 'til 10.20 for more Reivers, so off we went out the north west side towards Fenwick. We'd only travelled a mile or so against the biting westerly (same as last Sunday!) when Gavin began the torture, directing us into ploughman's pasture down to Fenwick Shield, where he had to check his map to confirm our direction.  Crossing these first few fields was purgatory over the cattle hooves and sodden top layer, but better done with fresh legs. Unfortunately, mine ain't fresh, they're Heinz (think about it) so it was just as hard as after a 28 miler for me.

  

Two miles later and we were popping out onto lovely, wonderful tarmac (yep, that's the Rock Gollum saying that!) at Matfen. Outside the village we turned onto the link road to Great Whittington, where it was soon apparent that the Gollum could have done with his Uncle Dick to give him a lift along here. The other five just buggered off and left him puffing and panting as he battled the headwind. He reached the next village about five minutes after them but was ready to turn back half way along that awful stretch of badly exposed black stuff. Luckily Gav had to stop for another map check, or they probably would have left without Oldie. The forward troop had recovered nicely by then so we plodded up the hill into Great Whit and it was time for Gavin's third map session. Our path seemed to be through someone's back garden, but rather than barge through he consulted a local to confirm the route. It was just starting to get nasty here as the first waves of driven snow began lashing us amidships. After taking a poll as to whether we should stay sheltered until it passed, we decided just to press on.

This put us into another badly churned up field. Now, however, Golly was determined not to be left behind again, so he put on a spurt and was fifty metres ahead of the group when he heard shouts behind, something like "Stop!!!" Why the hell should I stop? I'd just got going properly and they must have been embarrassed by my speed here. Looking back, however, and trying to interpret the dull, unrecognisable, storm-blown words coming from their frozen little faces, I detected something like "full". Well, that didn't make any sense to me. So I looked forward again, then slightly to my right I noticed a big brown hairy thing just yards away. OK, metres, for consistency. What I saw, however, wasn't a "full", but the biggest BULL I'd ever clapped eyes on. And believe me, it had also clapped eyes on the Gollum. It wasn't very helpful that today, expecting the storms we were now seeing the start of, I'd put on my lovely Karimore "Bike" waterproof coat. I keep this for rides I suspect may be very wet or very cold or both. However, it is the colour of a newborn bullock's blood. And as you'll know, that colour is implanted in the memory cell of every bull ever born. So that it can recognise it's enemies very easily if it sees any spillage. Well, it raised its massive head and pointed its gargantuan nostrils at me, and I saw and heard it snort. That snort blew me backwards, against the force of the gale. Now I've seen this on telly, and it has a hidden meaning. It means "I'm coming over there to perforate your kidneys, you insignificant little scrote". Now although my brain is sluggish these days, there's one feeling that gives me a sudden lift, a massive rekindling of my spatial awareness. No, not Red Bull, not here, not now. It's adrenalin. And this couple of tons of snorting, heavy-breathing hunk of bovine masculinity was suddenly doing it for me. I hurled the Barracuda round 180 degrees and pi**ed back down the field as fast as my little sticks would carry me, fully expecting to be knocked on my back at any second and ready to dump the bike and save my skin. Great chuckle from the others, but I was in shock and my heart rate monitor alarm was ringing loudly, well past safe setting. Didn't expect a dumb animal to raise my tick rate today.

When the herd (it wasn't alone) decided not to seek vengeance and began wandering off, Gavin wisely led us to the opposite side and we skirted that field in relative safety, though I still kept looking over at my would-be woolly assassin as he filled the eastern skyline. We got slightly off track but another map scan saw us back on route. We crossed more tarmac at Shellbraes and ploughed into more bog at Todridge Fell.  Just a bit further on Gavin proudly announced a nice bit of downhill, starting at Grindstone Law, point 622 on the map.  We got our breaths back here for a minute and set off on our descent. Fast it was not, as we still had the wind more-or-less full on against us, so what should have been a good rip was anything but. At least we didn't have to pedal the whole way. It was around now that Steve had to depart us and head for home, leaving the Reivers outnumbered by MidAirCrisis men for the first time.

We were now back on tarmac at New Bingfield and had our fastest drop to the road between Ryal and the A68, but unfortunately we turned against the wind again as far as the A68/A6079 junction. We took a short stint up to Colwell where Golly realised he had a squidgy front tyre. Gavin had dismounted anyway and took shelter in a bus stop to feed and consult his map again, so the offending wheel was re-inflated, in the hope that good old Slime would do it's job and seal the puncture. Unfortunately it didn't and on close inspection of the tube it looked like there wasn't enough of the green stuff in there to allow the coagulation process to work. So it was quickly patched. Off we went after a bite or two. We then had a short spell of protection from the wind but had to stop again just short of the A68 when the same tyre went flat again. No messing this time, new tube in and Slime sent back to the drawing board, at least for now.

We were still battling the elements on the other side of the main road and the going was hard through Great Swinburne over Reaver Crag. We stopped for another map reading session and another quick bite at Barrasford Park just short of Colt Crag Reservoir, then finally turned with the wind behind us for the return leg of our loop. The track down the south side of the reservoir was great, fairly fast with little effort required thanks to the gentle slope and wind power. We hit tarmac again (beginning to love it now) short of Thockrington,  turning south to Little Swinburne  before returning to softer ground. However, the lie of the land and the direction of the icy blast made this leg a doddle as we pretty much hurried over to Hallington Reservoirs, crossing the dam of the top one and ending up on road again past Cheviot Farm. I wasn't only attacked by a raging bull today - the little dark haired  thing here tackled me from behind and my right pedal hit it on the head (gently as I was struggling at the time!) Proper MTBers take care in the countryside

Then it was south to Hallington Village and an easterly wiggle to Ryal. Once again we were able to get into the big gears as the weather started to close in from the west behind us. You can't really see this in the photos but there was plenty of white stuff following us horizontally. The rest of the trip was easy, steady pedalling through Fenwick back to Stamfordham.

Gavin, Jason and John head for home a la Reiver Here's the sky closing us down

See the bull-enticing colour of my coat here as Ray pretends to grimace - sloppy acting!

Apart from that blasted wind, and to a lesser extent the state of the ground in parts, this was another great ride. Cheers, Gavin.

here's a crap video snippet of the finale showing how easy 28mph was 7MB .mpg vid...

Question of the Week 1: How many times can you open and fold a map without it falling apart?

Question of the Week 2: Where have all the Reivers gone?

 

GPS said 27.8miles,  5hr40m all-in, 4.9mph average, 28.1mph max. Bike PC said 27.9 m, 3hr47m rolling time,  7.4mph average 30mph max.