Once more there was a significant reduction in numbers for a Sunday ride - are we scaring everyone off? I suppose winter is a time for men to come out and boys to stay in. Sunday 4th November saw Derek and the Two Terrys leave Holystone just after 9.00am and Dial Cottage at 9.10ish, piling into the GollyMobile for the trip west to Haltwhistle. This would have been an excellent ride for those not too willing to climb hills or leave the ground, but alas, no takers, and that left the hardened regulars to go it alone. But hey, I'm glad you all missed it - read on to see why.

Arriving at Haltwhistle Railway Station, the Dozy One, aka Gollum, realised he didn't have his Camelbak with him in the car. But he distinctly remembered taking it out of the house an hour earlier. Panic set in immediately, as all his worldly goods were inside the bag, as well as today's food supply and of course, water. A quick call on the GollyMobe^® to Mrs Gollum confirmed the backpack and change of clothes were sat patiently outside the Cave minding their own business.

Derek to the rescue, and Terry H also offered cash for some sustenance, so we got the bikes and ourselves ready and shuffled up the road to the nearest open shop. Once Golly had made a selection of chewables we retraced our steps back to the station. As we approached, we noticed a bike-gear clad stranger eyeing up the notice boards. Derek made the initial approach, to be greeted by "Are you from the MTB club?". That was Ross, who had contacted Derek the night before and arranged to meet us here this morning. He'd got his girlfriend to drop him off all the way out here! A pair of nutters!!!

So it was we were multiplied, and off we went some time after 10.30am, two by two south west onto the old railway line trails headed for Alston. Not a great deal of action out here because of the lay of the land. But you really should get out here now that the Autumn colours are changing the landscape dramatically. My pictures here don't do them justice, but that's why I've used so many, I just couldn't resist it.

Here's Ross with his yellow pet Smurf clinging bravely to his back.

The odd section of this ride, between Lambley Viaduct and Kirkhaugh Station particularly, is still quite boggy even after a bone dry summer, and bits were a tad tricky, especially when it's the six inch wide singletrack part with a wire fence that caught Gollum's handlebars in a momentary lapse of concentration. It's an out-and-back route rather than a loop, but it looks great from both directions, and of course different coming back.

The Gollum had a very close shave on the outbound, when he slipped on the cast iron steps off the Viaduct carrying the bike down to get under and around the thing, courtesy of landowner not wanting Joe Public on his property right at the end of the viaduct. Derek was on hand just behind to get the laugh. But it did jar a vertebrae or two and was really felt by Golly. As usual, he shrugged it off and continued. Rock hard little critter. In fact, immediately afterwards he attempted to ride the wooden-edged steps just beneath the iron ones, and was very lucky not to dump himself over the bars, so he switched to slithering down at the side of the evil things. That was the extent of the day's bravado, or lunacy. Crossing the bridge brought a giggle out of a couple of female hikers.

Was it the Smurf or was it Gollum's face that produced this reaction?

As has become the norm lately, the pace was pretty much steady, only slowed by the clarty bits, but we did have the odd pause for a breath and a swig, and one slightly longer for Gollum to display his lack of skill with a GPS map. Then we arrived at an amazingly deserted Alston Station. Amazing because this was a fantastic mid-afternoon, as mild as you like (off the bike!) and the sun was up there somewhere. So we became the Station Cafe's solitary customers, and I must say were treat like kings by the two ladies running it. Golly, being without funds after forgetting his bag, asked the two if he could be permitted to consume his own crisps on the premises, as they were special ones for his dietary condition (load of crap, but you have to try, don't you?). "No, you can't" came back the reply, but they relented when he showed a pet lip. So we sat down at our choice of the eight or nine empty tables, and got stuck into Derek's teas. Cheers again, mate. And special crisps. And Cornish Pasties and other delicacies. We'd been in there for about 15 minutes when the old dear shouted through "Would you all like some Blackberry Pie, on the House?". "No", we said. Like Hell. Seconds later we were treated to four clangs of the microwave door, followed by four little "dings", and the two hostesses carried in a delicious slice of BB pie with ice cream. And it was beautiful. And that's why we're glad the rest of you weren't here - there were only four pieces, you see. As if that wasn't enough, we were then treated to a tea refill, also free. She, the Elder, was celebrating her last day, and we got lucky - right place, right time. Or was it just our cherubic appearance, or Derek's Lycra that swung it?

Speaking of which -spot the difference:

Somewhat reluctantly we had to leave, so the bogs got a visit and we were off out onto the road. The sun had been beaming through the little window in the cafe, but now the sky was threatening to punish us, dark, grey and mean. We hit the road out east, turning down to Kirkhaugh at the fork for a nice freewheeling mile or two down to the river. Once again, Mother Nature was displaying her vivid colours down here in spectacular fashion, with glimpses of the sun turning treetops into flaming cauldrons. Eh?

We crossed yet another bridge over the Tyne to rejoin the old railway line where we'd passed over an hour earlier and aside from the splendour of our surroundings, once more speed became the focal point. The weather closed in a little but only becoming mizzly, not wet, but the combination of extra pace and cooler air forced young Ross to put his waterproof on at last, to cover those bare arms. What a hero!

The last few kilometres of leaf-covered trail were done supersonically, but eventually Derek's singlespeed rotations caught up with him, and Ross and Terry H scuttled off into the distance, beating us back to the A69 after a very pleasant ride and yet another good leg stretcher.

Here's the album             and the map in two readable chunks      Haltwhistle Start      Alston End

And here's a couple of vids - 10MB and 4MB - but you'd have to be daft to want to see these! (right click and save, don't open from here).

Derek's GPS said 28.2 miles, 5hrs 3m, 5.57mph ave, (8.8 rolling), 29.3 mph max (singlespeed, NO hills!!!).

 

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