One from the depths of time this Phil and I hit the North Yorkshire MTB playground some time early May….
For a change I was running late. Phil had turned up and somehow I had turned a mornings worth of preparation into a last minute dash. Deservedly berated I was ready at last. Heading out for North Yorkshire’s Trail Centre our hopes were high for a good afternoon of riding. We weren’t to be disappointed.
In an unusual episode of British weather it was scorching hot and the ground was already flag crackingly dry from the bike wash as we left. With the quite frankly freaky late spring weather the morning had been spent with equal parts procrastination and attempts at hydration. All this led to one factor: We were zooming along country roads listening to the Tom-Tom’s authoritative tones and I needed to pee. Badly. Finally finding somewhere for me to stop and water the hedgerow I was suddenly stuck with stage fright. After some mental motivation the seal was broke and the days first sensation of euphoria hit home.
After some slight miscalculations involving my sat nav, a non-existent road and Phil’s driving we were one long journey down and a long ride ahead. Automotive stiff legs were massaged into life.The sun even fiercer here not far from the coast, my one small sachet of sun cream hidden in the first aid kit deep from dark nether regions of my camelbak was retrieved and applied.
Considerably later than planned we were mounted up and pedalling away. Less than 1/2 a mile form the car park and we had already missed a turning. Not too far on and we were bang on the trail climbing out on the red route proper. My legs weren’t feeling particularly snappy but I twisted the cranks regardless talking rubbish and hauling my arse up the incline regardless.
The dry heat was sucking the moisture from my body at a phenomenal rate and at the first stop I rolled up my jersey sleeves to my shoulders. I just prayed that my bingo wings wouldn’t get burnt… The first taste of what MTB Trail Centres was just around the corner and with a barely suppressed grin we kicked off.
Letting my good friend lead we dropped into a roller coaster ribbon of man made good sweetness. Up and down the path rolled ridden well it only required the odd kick of the pedals and Phil whooped and cheered over jumps and drops alike. And normally he is so reserved. (A collective snigger will be had by all who actually know him…)
Shooting out the other end we pitched up in the shade as Phil stuff a sandwich down his neck. Not far behind us a hound of large proportions loped by, closely followed by it’s owner and his group. As the canine noisily slurped from his owners camelbak I smiled as it’s owner called out it’s name to follow them on: “Come on Lupo…”
Back up again for an age my suspension had started to creak and crack driving my usual limit of sanity close to it’s broad edge. So despite the heat I did the best I could and watered it. Like a desert plant it was grateful and remained silent for the next few miles. The trails tracked up and down for a long while further rewarding every long fire road drag with gifts of hard pack narrow adrenalin hits.
Before long we reached Dixons Hollow. At the MTB playground we whizzed round a few times rolling the tabletops, too XC to be engaging in the jumping nonsense. I cleared the board walk managing to better my personal best of just walking most of the woodwork. Deciding on our current location we pulled out our butties and dove in hungrily. With our bellies satisfied (well mine at least) we cracked on after I watered the suspension once more.
The paths dragged on in the way only trail centre hard pack can and our only contact from humanity came some time later. We shared with our new pedal brothers our complete surprise and joy that for such a full car park the trails were almost completely deserted. Our next fix of man made goodness crept up upon us but soon had to be paid back in lactic acid with an evil switchback climb to the heavens winching us slowly to another summit. Scant few miles later this process was repeated once more.
With so much dust in the air I mistakenly took another anti-histamine thinking my tight chested coughing the result of early season pollen. With only a few miles Phil pinched flat and had to change two tubes as the first replacment valve fell out. All our water gone, filthy from sweat encrusted dust the corkscrew berms fired back out to the car park for Ice creams well earned
Fat Lad
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