Snow off the East Coast gave most of us at least a few or four inches by the time we were ready to start today's ride from the Cave at 0900 on Sunday 31st January 2010. Understandably (?) the weather kept most away so it was a sturdy quintet who cruised merrily away from Holystone consisting of the Bling Brothers - Steven Wa and Steve B, accompanied by Francis, Mick and Terry K.

Gorgeous

It was a beautiful morning with the sun about to top the roof line as we headed for the A19, staying on the road all the way down the side of Shiremoor past the Pavillion and then getting offroad to weave our way up to Backworth Crossing.

After the scrapyard we took to the grass, except there was none, but you get my drift (plenty of that going on) as Francis hit his first bout of V-brake aggro when the front wouldn't release because of the ice. He'd already cleared it at the Cave after riding from his Gosforth home but this was to be an ongoing theme on this gorgeous but cool wintry day.

Arriving at Seghill Tip it was Terry who hit the singletrack first to enjoy a brilliant blast through the singletrack on his little-used Decathlon Rockrider 9.1, brought out of hibernation by the breakage of the Trek's gear hanger on Thursday night. The little standby machine was flying, being completely unencumbered by the new-fangled grippy tyres on the Trek and just ballooning over the snow with a mind of its own on its distinctly summery treads.

However, he only made it as far as the first right hander before the legs gave way, and we grabbed a quick photo before handing the lead to Steven. He and Mick made light of the squidgy going along to Seghill, leaving the other three to ponder an easier route. They decided to take the train. However, that route took them past where the lead pair were waiting patiently so they had to get back down over the fence to continue out to the road.

Neiggh...

There were two horses in the adjacent field, galloping around after each other and having a great time kicking up flurries of snow. When Terry got alongside, they both bolted across towards him and stuck their heads right over the fence, overhanging the single-line trail directly in front of him. Now you know how nasty it can be when someone sneezes in your face, right?

We turned left onto the Dudley road then right down to Seghill Hall. Francis hadn't met The Mummy so that's where we headed, around the front of ThornHill and north to the stainless steel creation standing lonely at the edge of the tree line. On the way past the Whoops, a couple of voices suggested we should do them as they looked very inviting covered in virgin snow.

Up we go.

There'd been very little variation in depth of snow or general ground conditions since we left home, so Terry began to wonder how to avoid the ride turning into a marathon, especially since Francis had a brake problem and derailleurs don't like sub-zero temperatures even without being wrapped in ice. So he suggested we take to the Hill, do the Whoops and maybe lose a bit more time here, little realising that it was about to become the focal point of the whole ride.

Most of you regulars will have done this with us before, one way or another. Always, however, in passing, except for that fateful night when 23 or so of us spent a few hours mending punctures on it's high point last year. Once we'd overcome the skinny footbridge and hauled ourselves up to the central spine, Steven and Mick again led south to the top of the bumpy drop. We took a short rest there to allow Francis some more brake-clearing time before spreading out and attacking those manifestly difficult to ride (at any decent speed) rollers.

Arriving at the bottom and just managing to avoid the ice-covered pond, we discovered that they had wreaked their revenge on Steven, shoving him off the Fuel EX-9 and breaking his thigh. Well, not quite, but he felt something as he hit Terra Firma as it's a long way down to ground zero off that big beastie.

And again.

Apart from his fall, Steven was having so much fun, as were the rest of us, that we all agreed with Mick's decision to climb again and try the singletrack drop alongside the whoops, that strangely we've never tackled before. So we headed west towards the Hall and the easiest singletrack path back up to the top, although the snow on that climb made it very hard to negotiate the right turn at the half way point, so we all had a short walk before resuming.

At this point Terry decided we'd earned the Final Assault, from the top of the Whoops but this time north taking in the whole singletrack downhill towards Seaton Delaval. However, he hadn't reckoned on Steven spotting a couple of footprints coming sideways off it, so we crossed the little Mummy bridge again to climb up to the trail once more.

And again.

When Steve and Terry got there, the other three were coming back again after going straight on but running into the perimeter fence with nowhere to go. So Steven led south one more time, and after one false start managed to find a very nice wiggly path down towards the trail. He was kind enough to snap a few branches off to make the path a bit easier for the rest of us, although he couldn't really avoid doing that!

We got down in two groups, emerging at two different points, before heading back around to the Hall and up the hill one more time for the Finale. On reaching the top, Stevie B asked if it was lunch time yet. Someone found a clock, but it must have had a flat battery as it only said 11:00! Yes, we were all ready for it after the effort we'd put in, but decided to hold off a while longer. It wasn't really that we'd worked so hard, but more the fact we'd packed so much into the ride and enjoyed it so much. (so far!).

At long last we lined up for the final assault, with Steven and Mick continuing to lead, Francis in the middle, Steve and Terry hauling ass. This was great, with the snow, the narrow muddy gullies and the ever-present danger from horizontally poking branches providing enough to keep your eyes bulging as you flash down manically. There's a wee thorn bush marking the solitary turn on this descent, a right-hander, and with Terry not at all keen to loose any speed on the insanely grippy Rocky, he launched himself at the corner. The wee bush had other ideas. No, it didn't jump out in front of him. It just held out it's hand and applied his front brake. "Oh, my goodness" he was heard to utter as he just managed to regain control and save a thorny dismount.

Lost.

The others were getting their breath back at the bottom, and we were quickly underway again with East Crammy and the Nature Reserve the next targets. Steven overshot a possible new section of singletrack off to the right in his haste so Terry took over to lead but not for the first time in his life found he'd bitten off a bit too much here. We stuck with it though, snapping and carving our way through very low and spiky branches before finding the path again and escaping out onto the road at the edge of Delaval.

And again.

With the evergreens standing proudly on the other side holding great lumps of snow in their branches and not a breath of wind to disturb them, the temptation to enter at a new spot was too great to resist. In we piled but it wasn't long before Golly's Folly made an entrance. This particular section of undertree slalom had actually been tackled before, when the troupe had been led through in the opposite direction by Jeff and Chris D some time before Christmas.

Only this time, Terry had slightly miscalculated, so no real surprise there. The ensuing 15 minutes proved particularly difficult for anyone over three feet tall, so you can imagine what a whale of a time Steven had getting his not inconsiderable frame underneath this lot! Come to think of it, Mick ain't exactly a dwarf either! After the struggle had turned into a mild dilemma, we reached a clearing and took stock.

Mick got his eye (the one that hadn't been poked out) on something so we followed his advice and moved away from what looked decidedly unrideable snow-covered scrub to what looked like white snow and more widely spaced trees. Safe haven finally reached just as Steve queried the time again. Midday now, so why not stop? We found some logs to park on and settled for a very well deserved break in the sunshine, directly beneath those life-giving electricity pylons.

Retreat!

We weren't quite ready to think about heading back so terry led out from the trees northwards, uphill onto fresh snow. All around this ex-pit heap area we could see the remnants of great sledging sessions, but set our sights on the clumps of woodland dotted around the perimeter of the central bowl.

Sure enough, Steven found a potential trail just off the side of the tallest mound, so we followed him in and enjoyed another short blast between closely planted fir trees before being forced out again. From here we could see for miles, with all the main coastal features of South Northumberland clearly laid out below us, so we posed out in the open with Blyth Harbour as a distant backdrop.

Then, after we'd made enquiries about other routes through the trees with a local walking his dog, Terry led down the snowy slopes as we headed homeward and onto the road through East Cramlington. We jumped back on the far end of the Mummy bridleway and rode past her for the last time (third today!) on our way back across the fields by the Hall to the A19.

Not done yet though, so determined were we to max out the singletracks, so we leapt up onto Ian B's Seghill section and used the last of our breath ploughing along there, very enjoyable again but now getting harder on the older legs. And when we hit the Dudley road, didn't Steven go and volunteer us for the top field instead of the nice free running tarmac road to the bottom of Burradon!

Somehow, the four zoomers managed to cajole Terry up the steady incline and the inevitable Hillheads field crossings to finish, totally knackered. All that remained was the cruise down the Crammy Waggonway and the drop through Holystone Farm, but again Steven had other ideas after Mick asked about more singletrack.

So we followed him along into Killingworth via the first underpass, onto the top road and in at the church to drop to the Great Lime Road. But we didn't do that, oh no we didn't. For as long as I can remember we've been riding up this cut from Forest Hall on the Thursday night rides but never really taken to the trees by its side, although Ian A has suggested it more than once. Today though, Steven disappeared into the top end at an indecent rate of knots, considering the conditions. Somehow, this little trail seemed to just go on and on, and the snow was exactly right, giving just enough edge grip to race on, because that's exactly what we did until we finally emerged at Clousden Hill. Utterly brilliant!

Steven departed for home taking Francis along to point him at Gosforth, leaving Mick, Steve and Terry to cruise up the GLR back to the Cave, arriving at 13:10 and well satisfied with our hastily planned (ie made up as we went) ride in the snow.

Photies