For some reason I expected a higher turnout than this the one we got this fine Sunday morning, 11th November 2007. Craig was first to arrive at the start point well before 9.00am to give the Gollum a chance to see his new project - a Specialized Stumpjumper 120 frame, bright red and pretty light. Plan is to build it up fairly quickly with a mixture of new parts and maybe some swaps from his current Rockhopper hardtail. Looks like Craig has a bargain on his hands here - good old eBay.

Keith was next closely followed by Derek, and then... nobody! We didn't get away til 9.20 as there was a problem with the fuel filler cover on Derek's Volvo (if only everything was as reliable as a Volkswagen). The morning was beautiful but pretty chilly, even Derek forsaking the short pants, but rock hard Craig and Keith still had their knees out.

The Route Map, courtesy of Derek's GPS

We had a pretty swift trip down to Dalby Forest in North Yorkshire following Keith's alternative directions, and as we drove into the car park were met by a long-haired hippy, probably begging for cash for a meal, so Golly pulled over and wound down his window to sympathise with the poor soul. But it was only Our Ian F, there to meet us as planned from his home in York. Easy mistake. However, the conversation was abruptly chopped off before a word could be said, as the 11-11-11 Chimes of Big Ben struck on the radio, and ex-Marine Keith ordered a minute's silence from the back seat. Not fancying a fatal Karate chop to the neck, Golly just opened his mouth and kept it still. Ian, totally baffled, stood there wondering what he'd done wrong. We parked up and managed to explain our erratic behaviour to Ian before he called the men in white coats for us. Here's a set of prats, no?

We set off at 11.40, following Keith towards the Bike Hire place with Golly mumbling "wrong way, wrong way". But it wasn't. It's one of two ways to start the ride. Anyway, this was Keith's opportunity to show us the right way around the Red Route following the Gollum's inability to find 50% of it on each of his previous visits. The initial climb's a switchback stinger but it sure gets the blood pumping early. And it takes you straight to our "normal" starting point anyway just under the Ape swing at the far end of the picnic field.

Now into the ride proper and the singletrack climb up to the first treats. The trail, as I indicated last time is a mixture of short ups and too-short downs. At least the first 12 miles is. Thanks to Keith and his exploratory visit a few months ago, he got me to the second 12 mile section today, as I would surely have missed it again. Between the two, and very late for Golly's little tum-tum, we stopped just after the site of Derek's famous Black Route drop-off for lunch. On the way here I did manage to grab a few snippets of video on some of the more interesting singletrack. And also caught Ian doing his turtle impression at the start of the fastest Red downhill, before he even reached the mean bit!

Somehow, the lessons and comments from the last few rides went right out the window, as Keith, Derek and Craig up front most of the way seemed intent on taking the Team Prize. Maybe someone knew it would be dark at the finish. It almost was, so our pace was maybe justified. And we did just beat the heavy weather which was gathering a few valleys away. But it hurt.

Funny what you get free in a bag of crisps, init?

After lunch under a showery sky, as the light, driving rain swept in and out of the forest in spasms, we were off on uncharted territory with Keith directing from the front. Oodles more very enjoyable singletrack but most of it reached over very temporary-looking Dolomite, built-up on raised mound tracks, some of which will definitely not see out the winter as they were already yellow sponge mudbaths after the first wet night for months. Along one of these zigzag stretches are two little bombholes. Only about 8 to 10 feet deep, but severely scooped out, and it was the first that took Craig by surprise, leaving his snooker tools hooked on his stem as he went over the bars. Ayeeee! He said at the end of the run.

We rode on, mingling with the same couple of groups of riders as we went and sharing the odd word. By now we were well soaked with yellow gunge from the Dolomite but enjoying every minute. Almost. Keith and Terry enjoyed the next sections more than the others, as Ian, not far behind, was tiring a bit while Craig and Derek both had whoopsies further behind, Craig off for the second time doing a Derek with his shoulder just before we reached the final downhill singletracks. And from the crossroads shown here, it was Ian and Terry at the back, rapidly running out of leg power, waiting for the promised rewards.

However, one thing that differs here from other man made trails is that the singletracks, as excellent as they are, are much shorter, and peppered with linking climbs. That's good in a way, but if you ain't done it before and you've put loads of effort into the flat bits and muddy bits, and Sergeant Major Keith tells you there's a wet dream waiting "just over the next rise", you'll probably want to become a deserter coz it's a long time coming.

Having said that, the net result of completing this ride is a feeling of conquering something radical. Not radical in a purely technical sense, but one of surviving a  rough, jolting test of your arm and shoulder muscles (and arse elastic if you're on a hardtail like our Craig) as the whole of the last 12 miles or so is littered with sharp rocks poking out of every inch of the trail apart from a couple of smooth linkers.

We took the bikes straight to the Pace Bike Park wash facility to blast off the worst of the mud before changing and heading to the Visitor centre around 4.00pm for a well deserved cuppa. Cheers for that and the Toastie, Keith! While Craig had left bits of his jewels in the bomb hole and Derek had chips out of himself and Ian had holes in his lower limbs, Keith and Golly emerged unscathed. And we were all pretty tired, I suspect. After a good laugh and rest at the table, time to head for home, with Ian returning to York hoping not to get as lost as he did trying to find the place.

So - muddy, soggy, hilly, rocky, too many climbs, too short singletracks and at 24 miles way too long. Or to put it another way - bl@@dy fantastic ride, heyup Keith! The entertainment on the ride home had me ill, and hurt more than a good thump onto the rocks!

Derek's GPS said 22.7mls, 5hrs 6mins, 4.3mph ave, 24.6mph max. And easier to reach than Kielder! BUT it may be best to wait til after winter to come back, as parts are gonna be wrecked very soon, it's just not weather-proof.

 

Album here                                       and tame videos here:    one    two    three    four    five

 

Keep watching and if you fancy a ride out with us, drop us a line here: bailout@midaircrisis.org.uk