A local away day seemed a good way to split up Glentress the week before and the Lakes next Sunday, so at Speedian's suggestion we plumped for the Great North Forest ride. This is used by Gateshead Council for it's annual mountain bike fun event and we used to participate (legally!) every year until the last 2 or 3 stagings. Today, however, there was only us NMBC wallahs present, although the numbers on a surprisingly cool day were well up on expected at 13.
There were riders travelling there by van from Holystone, car from Jesmond, the Toon, Whitley Bay and Seaburn as well as those coming by bike from Forest Hall (Speedian) and Kenton (Craig) and others by Husky. Did I say it was cool? It was bl@@dy freezing. Should have been nine degrees but the Met Office let us down badly here. Somehow we were all ready to depart from Whickham Thorns Outdoor Activity Centre reasonably quickly and set off onto Market Lane at 08:55. Poor Chris D was to suffer until a few miles from the return with a jamming freehub on the Mongoose, forcing him to pedal non stop almost all the way around this 21 mile loop, but he just got on with it, smiling as usual. It also helped keep him out front for much of the time as he found it easier to attack every climb with vigour, and there are quite a few on this "easy little" ride. We gathered at the bridleway tee junction before the road crossing for another rest and some clothing adjustments then continued, pulling up to the road.
Crossing over, we were soon heaving our way up the damp, leaf-strewn bridleway towards Whickham Golf Course before being able to ease off from the top, although the wind, gloop and odd doggie walker stopped us trying to blast it. By the time we reached the first waggonway there was a lot of heavy breathing going on, but the worst thing for Old Souls like the Gollum were the frozen toes, even though they were wrapped in socks, Sealskins and overshoes. Luckily the fingers weren't affected the same way, so the chill must have been near ground level only. The fallen Autumn leaves made the wider tracks pretty interesting as they disguised more than the odd rut and groove which could easily tip you out of the saddle, especially as the pace increased. Speedy and Golly lurked at the back to try and make sure it didn't.
It was Golly with that infamous memory who took the lead into Fellside, managing to hammer up the tarmac estate road climbs in order to point the way to the pack. At the head of this climb he dived into a handy bus shelter for a nice sit down, but was immediately caught by the others who he thought were some way behind. All we had to do from here was wend our way down through the estate and up to the traffic lights at the Stanley turn in Sunniside, before making our way up the A6067 towards Tanfield. That's where the more appropriate singletrack run starts, and after a short wait for raincoats to be donned, it was Chris the Younger (D) who headed for the front after the Gollum's briefing. Off we went, plummeting down the initial drop only to be stopped in our tracks by the first hike up which always destroys the field in the organised events. Half way along Chris, head down and gunning the 'Goose, overran our turn-off (because Golly hadn't told him!) and while the rest of us crossed the railway track, Chris had to backtrack after wasting all of that energy! Oops, sorry Chris.
We ushered him back to the front and he shot off again dragging the rest of us along to the car park at Tanfield Railway. There was no time to rest there, however, as Golly immediately crossed the main road and onto the next waggonway. The next few straight sections were also quite pacey, and only interrupted when Mick forced the Gollum to check his directions, just to make sure he didn't cock it up like last time when we ended up with an extended tarmac excursion. This time, remarkably, Golly had come prepared with not only a map but also printed directions. Who said? By the time we got to the proper turn-off for High Beamish (confirmed by a passing and helpful local biker) most of the party had their full wet gear on. As we stopped to take on the singletrack ahead, the Gollum indicated there might be something nasty ahead as he pulled on his wet overtrousers.
He wasn't kidding. This splendid run, lasting a good five minutes and preceded by a lovely fast singletrack drop, opens up and narrows three or four times as you plunge down towards Beamish Hall, and at each widening it becomes extremely muddy, then rocky, then muddy again, then fast. The net result when we got to the flat of a sodden doubletrack base camp was a host of stories about who took which line and who got stuck and who fell off and who almost tipped it into the river. Chris K managed to shoot between the lines of the two men in front and run straight into a swamp that stopped him dead, and there was a good bit of loud inter-rider conversation going on as we descended. Here at the bottom, there was no pale flesh left on display - the bare legged members of the party (yep, real men!) looked like they had long un's on and all fourteen faces were blacked out with fresh mud. But I think this section probably made the whole ride worthwhile on its own.
A few hundred metres further on we hit the gates of Beamish Hall and it was time for one of the Gollum's least favoured road climbs. It's nowt to fear, but when you've just immersed yourself in this downhill run as flat out as you can go, this isn't what you need. Then, half way up, Andy's rear disc began announcing it's demise loudly - yet another pair of Avid pads without their maternal spring clip, which was clanging away at the rotor. The Gollum said there was a barn atop the bank which we could shelter in from the persistence. It never materialised, however - wrong again, he was.
So instead we stopped at the gates to the Open Air Museum and lo and behold, out came a big yellow thing in the sky! Golly gave up his newly acquired spare Juicy 7 pads as Andy's weren't too healthy aside from the broken spring issue, and within a few minutes (well, a bit longer - bl@@dy Juicys!) all was well again, so time to get back on track.
That meant a short retreat back to the turn-off at the top of that bank, then up towards the kennels. That's where the Gollum got his eye on a gap between the trees that he'd never seen before, so in we went. It was even wetter and gloopier in here than anywhere we'd already been, but the trails looked very deliberate so we followed them, with a few excursions off the bikes from Stewart and Craig (I think!) as the clag got very deep. We finally emerged atop a small hillock with a series of berms and man-made jumps just waiting to be attacked! Not by us, of course - I fancy a more local group was responsible for this little rat run. We didn't stay long and Golly led back out the way we entered after a couple of minutes trying to decide if this was lunch halt, but as it was only 10:30am we decided not to bother.
Back outside the copse, we found our route frigged a little, and it took a while for The Fool to get his bearings again. When he did we were presented with a bridge and a crazy, deeply-pocketed, steep, sharp-turning chute down onto the old Consett-Sunderland Railway. The sensible amongst us walked their bikes down, and that was difficult enough. One who didn't, our Stewart, found himself in the wars again when a hawthorn bush got hold of his face as he rode the drop, spreading blood all over the place. At least he had a clean face after he'd wiped all the red stuff away!
The next ten minutes consisted of a nice flat tour along this waggonway with the wind at our backs. We were looking for another bridge drop, but this time onto an unclassified road. After two false alarms it was Mick who found the right one, and down we went to start a fairly long tarmac section that would take us over to High Urpeth after another short bout of height gaining. On the way we passed the barn "he" had been expecting to hit earlier! What a memory.
Time to get off the road again with a lovely long field drop on dual farm track before hitting a nasty, rocky climb. Unfortunately this wasn't quite as expected. First of all, there were two gates across our path. Whereas the Gollum had told the others to either save their energy for the climb or blast the whole thing, he chose the latter but the first gate stopped the fun. Yep, it's always been open for the GNF event! Not only that but there was a nice red painted sign on it - Beware of the Bull! Then the second did the same again, but on the way to it we were severely hampered by both the gale blowing against us and the farmer who'd kindly laid a few hundred tons of grit which just stopped the bikes from getting into their stride. Actually, the climb out was probably the most enjoyable bit!
Up top, though, Golly had more bad news for tired legs - a "couple of miles of steady drag up" over Kibblesworth Common. This is the section where depression can set in - good job the ride isn't any longer. It deposits you at the top of the road outside Kibblesworth. Unfortunately, you don't get to ride all the way down into the village, but have to stop half way just as you reach forty without pedalling (and without wind). That's mph, by the way, not age. You can get to forty (years) without pedalling, but definitely not without wind.
We're now on another disused railway embankment, the Bowes Railway Path, which is now smooth black ash, but originally was skinny singletrack with heavy soil and mud all the way back up to the next tarmac road, and very hard work. Even now, with the wind hitting our port bow, Ainis and Golly travelled very slowly up this part, knackered. As usual now, the extremely well-disciplined pack was there waiting for us at the roadside. Again, though, the Gollum had further bad news about what lay ahead - yet more tarmac climbing past Ravensworth Grange all the way up to the 6076 again.
A short drop into the top of Sunniside and everyone knew where they were again. From here we dropped on bridleway all the way down behind Sunniside, crossing the main road half way down into the top of Whickham, and then another quite short but very entertaining blast along the top of the woods before plunging down with four great, fast step ledges to launch off - one of the easiest places near the Toon to get some good air, even if you normally can't!
Another field crossing now into Whickham and a short, fast bridleway drop to Whickham Highway. We crossed at the Police Station and dropped into Duckpool Lane. As the houses came to an end, Golly issued another shrill warning about stopping at the bottom and he was gone. Stevie B was first to reach him after this run and really had to jam everything on to stop his Stumpy from skating out onto Market Lane again! Loony.
This is where Craig, Stewart and Speedy decided they had time and energy enough to ride back home - Craig to Kenton, Stewart to Wallsend and Ian to Forest Hall. The rest of us either had vehicles waiting or were just too shot to do any more. It was about 12:10 now, not far off the planned midday finish. All we had to do was cross the road, enter the grounds of Whickham Thorns and blast the little bridleway back to the car park, all of four hundred metres.
Golly knew exactly what lay ahead and zoomed off as expected. Chris D was next up, but as the Gollum cleared the wooden bridge, Chris slowed and braked on it, causing him to loose traction on the Mongoose and fall. Unfortunately, the other Chris, K, was just about up his chuff at the time, and also came to grief as his wheels hit the bridge. To add to the confusion, steve B also collided with the back of all this, but perhaps fortunately at somewhat reduced cadence.
Gollum arrived at the van and looked back to see - no-one! Then he saw Chris D waving his arms in the air and knew immediately someone had come to grief. Returning to the scene, he did indeed find carnage. Chris K was on his back on the path just beyond the bridge. The path had a deep gouge in it's surface. Chris didn't look much like a working model, lying fairly still with the odd moan emitted. There was no blood, luckily, so we kept him still for a while during the compus mentus part of the standard interrogation. Only this time no-one asked the Old Favourite - "You OK?" - because it was patently obvious Chris was anything but.
Without our resident Quack, Steve W (where the heck are you, old pal?) it was left to the Gollum to do the medical bit. He remembered being carted off to hospital at 16 after hitting his head on a kerb following a dropped chain on his road bike (yuk). On that occasion, a very young Gollum-in-Training, out cold, woke up several hours later in Newcastle's Royal Victoria Infirmary. Only he didn't wake up himself, oh no - he woke up when one of the nurses in attendance began tweaking his boyhood - honest! So Chris, what to do, eh?
No, don't be silly, I was just teasing. We helped him to his feet and supported him as far as a conveniently placed picnic table nearby, after which we ignored him for some minutes as we all ate lunch. Chris, meantime, did the "Tim Thing" asking a few dumb questions and quite obviously displaying symptoms of concussion. Steve B grabbed his helmet (no, I said - his CYCLE helmet) and on inspection declared Chris to be headless. Or potentially, if he hadn't been wearing a decent lid. It was smitherened. Loads of dents and dimples on its roof, but down below - broken right through at the right forehead position. This was bad, but I dread to think of how much worse it could have been, and we all agreed on that after seeing the damage. Lucky boy.
Actually, Chris isn't a lucky boy, he's a sensible one. That's why we have one single, absolute rule - you MUST wear a cycle helmet to ride with MAC/NMBC. If you don't, you have a mental problem and it wouldn't be very wise to seek another. And we refuse to be accessories to it.
It was some time, maybe 15 or 20 minutes before we got him walked over to the cars, and he was really miffed at how close he'd been to the end of the ride. He was also pretty miffed at the damage he'd done to all of his recently acquired new kit. One fairly expensive Met Parachute helmet written off. One new pair of waterproof trousers full of holes and tears. One new waterproof jacket full of holes. And a very entertaining row of teeth marks on the back of his right shoulder where Chris D's big chainwheel had carved it's initials into Chris K's jacket! The younger of the Chrises deduced that the severity of the helmet damage was almost certainly due to contact with the stricken Mongoose, rather than smooth gravel track.
Gradually Chris' immediate loss of memory cleared up, thankfully, and he got into cursing his luck, which to us was a real blessing. Chris agreed with our amateur diagnosis that he shouldn't drive, so Steve kindly offered to be his chauffeur and half an hour later we had him back at his Jesmond pad, very shaken but fortunately still stirring. As far as I know he's doing Ok (and is now to be known as Captain Crunch!) as his girlfriend had been summoned after we left him and I'm sure a good massage session brought a few of his lost senses back.
Apart from this horrific termination, I think everyone enjoyed the 21 mile ride, and look forward to hearing all your views either in person or on the Blog. Not been on there yet? Come on, get signed up - even I can use it!
Riders: Ainis, Andy P, Chris D, Chris K, Craig, Stewart, Mick, Ian A, Ian M, Iain S, Steve B, Tim and the Gollum.
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