So, it surely couldn't last forever - the dribble of Sunday riders we've had all year - there had to be a turning point. Maybe this was it. Spearheading the revival were three new riders. Well, I stretch the point, as one was returning after many months away and another after a couple of years. First was Derek, he of troubled vertebrae and an assortment of uncomfortable medical conditions. Next was John W, much-travelled but now hopefully back in the North East for the long term and looking fitter and more sprightly than ever. And the only genuine new starter was Claire, ex-national Cross Country racer now ready to take up where she left off a few years ago. Welcome all three.

John and Derek travelled over to Haltwhistle together for the ten o'clock start, as did Claire and Pete. Poor Paul and Chris D became victims of the inevitable NMBC travel chaos and ended up driving their cars across together with Steve B, Ian B (on a very welcome long lead for today!), Richy, Tim and Terry K in the GollyMobile™. The ride kicked off at precisely 1015 under a broken grey sky on dry ground, 9°C.

Actually there was one other new starter, (if we ignore Claire's, ahem, pastel blue Spesh Stumpy) and that was Terry's latest experimental mount, based around a ridiculously expensive full suspension (naturally) frame acquired on Friday for an undisclosed sum, but rumoured to be somewhere between £179.98 and £180. This was a replacement for the old Mutha so loved by the Gollum until its untimely demise due to bearing failure and a ham fisted repair attempt. The next few hours would provide crucial physical, metaphysical, physiological and mechanical feedback, (NASA eat your heart out) plus a whole sh:tload of drivel. OK then, its a 2002 model DDG Hitman weighing in at 5.58lbs (confirmed in the GollyBathroom^®) and close to four fingers of travel (confirmed in the same place?), although onlookers cast doubts on that particular statistic.

Regardless - this ride is a real doddle - at least on the outward leg. It just happens to run up the old railway line between Haltwhistle and Alston. Now its fairly common knowledge that Victorian trains didn't climb too well because their wheels would start to spin at anything over a five degree incline. Of course, modern trains have somewhat altered that figure and won't even travel over wet leaves or snowflakes. But I digress. It's a flat ride. So, as is customary, not too many of us had accidents on the way up or suffered too much on the climbs.

However, that only lasted til we reached the world famous Lambley Viaduct where that much-despised member of the Human Race had the trail through his adjacent property legally cordoned off and now everyone is forced down the extremely steep and tiresome sets of wooden and iron steps which drop you to river level thousands of feet below with nowhere to go but straight back up again. If you're unfortunate enough to have selected this route for a leisurely ride with maybe your Granny's wheelchair hitched to your seatpost, I'm afraid you're gonna have to leave her up top admiring the view until you get back from Alston one-up. I hear that you can get flights up to Alston from Newcastle if she really needs to get there but the landing is a bit bumpy. But anyway, check your local Iceland first.

'Twas at this point where the party became two. Derek and John chose not to risk their lives on their first rides back when they saw the others first debating, then lifting their bikes over the high fence to drop down an impossibly steep run of gravel track to the riverside. "OK, we'll meet up on the other side" (plan A). After a not uncommon delay while Terry, Richy, Chris and Tim explored a brand new strip of one-way-in and same-way-out singletrack, the main party dragged themselves back up to the far end of the viaduct again only to find plan A wasn't working. Where were Derek and John?

We waited at the far end for many minutes. Ian and Paul rode ahead to see if their was any sign of Dumb and Dumber. Of course not. So after about ten minutes, Stevie volunteered to run back down to the bridge on foot to see if they were waiting there. Meantime, Terry took to the nearest hill from where he could see the whole thing but the pair weren't there. Another short wait ensued before Ian returned to announce that a pair of riders had been seen by a couple of footsloggers way up ahead, so we took up the pursuit in the direction of Slaggyford.

It wasn't until we got to Alston Crossing that we saw them, Unloaded Cannon and Spent Ball, sitting on the platform supping tea in the sun! We joined them but sadly not in the now defunct Tearoom which finally closed its doors in November. The little shop does, however, knock up hot drinks in dirty great flasks so your Granny can still sup if she can operate that parachute successfully.

We took quite a long break here, those in the know in no rush to start the return leg as they knew what was waiting a mile out of town. That's because the route back changes subtly as you leave the Station through the back door onto the main A686. It sort of rises a bit. But hey, that's not bad as you soon reach the turn down to Kirkhaugh and grab plentysworth of minutes of freewheeling down this pleasant tarmac slope, unhindered by motor traffic most times. If you can duck into Richy's shadow and weave when he tried to loose you from his slipstream, this is a free ride for a mile or so.

Then comes the killer blow, or the first one. If you are tired at all at this point, you are about to extinguish your flame. John, in his youthful innocence, attacked it manfully. But he could only see the first kick. We made bets as to how long he'd keep going. Remarkably, he was still attacking when he saw Part Deux of this nasty climb and just kept pushing the Kona's pedals relentlessly. This is no ordinary hill though, and when the final delight comes into view you either ignore it and ratchet up or do what John did and dismount. Brilliant effort though after being off the bikes for so long. Can't remember who it was skittling all the way up in middle ring, but it provided vital experimental feedback. It's only 200 vertical feet in half a mile but it's the way it delivers that hurts.

And then you die.

We had a very short rest and a discussion on our intended direction before taking off again from Low Row (ha!) up to Barhaugh Hall. We ignore the gate and lovely meadow drop we made last time as the field was full of new lambs, and continued up the road at Derek's direction. Dropping down to Saffron Well, Terry pointed at yonder trees, totally convinced he could find a trail in there. The others, apart from the Brothers Grim and Claire followed him blindly but their pursuit ended fruitlessly with a difficult, off-camber walk-carry-ride-carry section before the expected target came into view. Only four of us got to enjoy the fruits of the drop from the top of the hill, while we saw the farmer down below at Williamston grimacing, luckily without his favourite twelve bore to hand. Sorry Mister.

Moral question - if you climbed a fence, why was it there?

We regrouped on the perfectly legitimate bridleway to Parson Shields before hitting the next 160 feet in half a mile climb up past the old kiln before reaching The Bog and turning flat or downwards again on the lush green trail. Good to have the wind almost at our backs now. We dropped down to Eals Bridge but stayed on the east side of the South Tyne before crossing at Whitwam to rejoin our outward path again. Not long after, and just to break up the gravel path boredom somewhat, Chris spotted a track off to the right and shot up the incline followed by terry and then Tim. Nice if rather short section of very narrow and pointy singletrack with a barbed wire fence to the right and death by falling a long way to the left. At its end was a somewhat steep drop, and for Chris a chance for some experimentation of his own when he decided to crash test his new Casco Viper full face XC lid with no damage done to man or machine. Tim and Terry took the wiser option to keep a leg out on that bit.

Just a short cruise back to the A69 now and the southern fringe of Haltwhistle, but although the front group had departed, Tim, Chris, Richy, Steve and Terry were a little slower and that gave the Professor time to spot another likely-looking offshoot leading to the old disused road bridge over the Tyne. It took us to another great little stretch of trail where the local kids had constructed some low take-offs with the sandy earth. We gorged ourselves on that until hitting the town again and rejoining the others in the Station car park at about 1615.

No punctures, no mechanicals, and only one tip-off - not the most challenging of rides but a pleasant enough day out.

Oh, and apologies to Claire if she didn't understand all the Polish that was being spoken today. Naughty boys.

Pix here...