Not even retired for a week and already Jeff is heaping praise on me! Last night he declared that this ride inflicted the most nettle stings, gorse prickles and thorn rips that he'd ever been subjected too in a long series stretching back years. I'm flattered Jeff, but just doing my job. Then to cap it all at the half way point, Mark dinged his Giant's rear derailleur and the ensuing wait while the blind, fumbling cretin otherwise known as the Gollum attempted a repair saw us attacked and ripped to shreds by the most ferocious swarms of flesh eating flying things this side of the Amazon. Malaria maybe not, but mal area definitely.

We started out with a plan in mind - Hartford Bridge to Bedlington and back down to the Cave again. Until we got to Arcot it was all good - keeping it steady and not deviating too much off-route to save precious time. Then, as is the custom, Terry saw the opportunity to hit bushes rather than easy ground near the golf course. He sent Justin in first to clear the trail for him - big lads are dead handy, no?

The first section paid off handsomely and we were rattling through some brilliant singletrack, although we'd perhaps missed one of those wooden signs that didn't welcome horses and stuff. After half a click or so the vegetation got a bit closer to our wheels, and at that point the big lad was too big to go any further. So Terry took over to try and pick a way through the four or five foot high nettles and thorny bushes.

Not much further on the "trail" (OK, our path) led us to the fourteenth fairway so we wisely walked the bikes along the edge getting a breather before the next section of tree cover became available. Not too bad this time but we were then dumped into a field. Jeff's GPS pointed the right way out and eventually we hit the Seaton Burn to Cramlington road just south of the dual carriageway section.

Time to get a move on as we'd lost a little now. Up the tarmac past the Snowy Owl, it wasn't long before the Gollum struck again, this time sniffing out the remnants of the old Hartford road behind the trees, on what is to be the site of a massive landmark to rival The Angel, but this one is going to be lying down exposing some bits. Unfortunately the chosen route provided no means of escape, except for the now accepted eyes-shut bike drag through yet more closely woven greenery. Ouch.
Hang on a minute til I scratch these damn bites... I'm just a mass of itchy and sore red blobs this morning, and I was fully clothed and covered from head to toe, so God help the others with short sleeves and shorts!

We took the usual field drop down to Hartford Bridge and bombed straight up the other side without the normal pause for breath. That probably left us a bit tired as we entered the singletrack with Steve out front and may or may not have influenced the derailleur snapping by Mark.

After some frantic phone calls and texts from and to Ian, Tim and Terry sped back to find the stricken Giant and within hours had effected a repair using the Hitman's spare hanger from Terry's bulging backpack. The lost time and the travel needed from the far end if we'd kept going meant that it was more sensible to turn back now, so we did.

We were stuck on the road all the way back up to Seaton Burn again but made decent time, and after a little persuading, the group accepted Terry's suggestion to finish with a flourish, so we did the last section of Gosy Golf Course run with Mark and Suzanne heading for home from Sandy Lane.
The rest of us were approaching end of ride around 10:45 justifying the unfortunate turnback, never mind - next time.

Scratch, scratch.