This issue, Max and Russell head to Baysdale in the peaceful North York Moors for incredible views and great natural trails
With its remote location, incredible views and great natural trails, this North Yorkshire route is one for the explorers
While it’s not often that I’m reluctant to set off on a ride, it takes all my willpower to prise myself away from the comfy armchair and delicious coffee at The Yorkshire Cycle Hub cafe. Our photographer, Russell Burton, Philip Thurlow (who co-owns the Hub with his wife, Sarah) and I are sat poring over the Ordnance Survey map of the area with one eye, while the other looks out across the wonderful, but rather ominous, view of Great Fryup Dale. The Hub is a new venture, which opened last summer. Located in the hills of the North York Moors, amid lots of great riding, it has accommodation, a bike shop, bike hire and showers as well as the cafe we’re happily sampling. So we plan to do a route right from its doors.
The adventure begins
After (finally) accepting that the weather isn’t going to change, no matter how much coffee we drink, we decide to hit the road. It isn’t long before we’re back off-road though, legs just about warmed up enough to tackle the steep, loose climb up Danby Rigg. Phil kindly leads the way so he can point out the best lines up, giving us a greater chance of success, while Russell lies in wait with the partridges to snap away at our efforts. It’s a tough physical and technical challenge, which is great if you’re into that kind
of thing, and we’re thankful for our fresh legs – especially when we’re asked to go back down and do it “just one more time” for the camera. The reward for our efforts isn’t long in coming, in the form of a steep and rutted track back down the far side. It turns out that my tactic of following Phil requires a good level of technical skill – he’s a very competent rider. Trailing him does give me the opportunity to see the locally-designed, and very effective, Dirt Flap mudguard fixed to his dropper post in action. A neat idea, but maybe not one to Google while at work…
Mountain rescue
After a brief break to watch four jet planes roar by, skimming the tops of the moors we’ve just descended, we hit the tarmac again. We lose some height, but soon turn off-road once more, heading across lush grassy fields, following the Esk Valley Walk trail. It’s a little soft, so a bit hard going in places, but the vibrant green surroundings make a lovely change from dark, barren moorland and we’re happy to just cruise and chat. We keep a rather cautious eye on the cows we’re weaving through, as they definitely look a lot larger, and more interested in us, than usual. This provides us with some motivation up the singletrack climb to Castleton village, where the cafe is a bit too early in the ride (even for me!), so we reluctantly continue on our way.
We drop down to Dibble Bridge – some of us more literally than others, as Phil dives off into the heather on a sheep-made singletrack, only to suddenly disappear into the foliage, like a slightly drier rendition of the Danny MacAskill puddle stunt. Joining the road into the Baysdale valley, we battle on and keep ahead where it becomes a nice, rocky off-road track. With the strong headwind still pushing against us, jackets come out and heads go down as we fight our way up the trail. At an old dilapidated building, a stressed-out sheep starts to follow us, bleating frantically. Thankfully, Phil seems to understand stressed-sheep talk, so we do our good deed for the day and scour the valley until we unite her with her friends. The karma reward is immediate – the headwind eases and the sun comes out as we enjoy our descent. Damp grass and gravity assistance enables some comical drifting of the back wheel as we carve our way down the impromptu slalom course.
Trailblazers
We revel in the sun for a short stint along the valley bottom, before heading up the other side on a firm forest track, which, even with this inclement weather, is enough to have us in a sweaty mess by the top. Pausing to remove our jackets and catch our breath, Phil cracks out a selection of delicious OTE energy bars that he swiped from the Hub – a welcome treat, as this ride doesn’t offer up any other culinary delights until the cafe at the end. We join a lovely, narrow singletrack trail that wiggles through the heather, with well-positioned rocks adding a nice technical challenge, before a big
A NICE ROCKS ADD POSITIONED
WELL BEFORE A BIG CHALLENGE, TECHNICAL CROSSING TO A STEAM ROCKY DROP
rocky drop to a stream crossing. Russell and I both wuss out, citing the soft ground and the rocks Phil has just displaced as the reason, but we both know the truth (and that there’s an easier section of singletrack to the left).
With more brilliant riding that seems to go on and on, the trail now traverses the side of Great Hograh Moor. The wind is at our backs and it enables us to gain so much momentum that, by the end, we’re bouncing and pinging across the tops of the rocks. We’re now on the lookout for a little-used track to cut the corner to Westerdale, which a farmer kindly confirms we’re correctly following. A dilapidated wooden footbridge, with numerous holes and rotten planks, has us tiptoeing across like some velo version of Indiana Jones and, to top it off, there’s also a bull on the far side! A house owner comes out to say it isn’t a right of way any more so, as we’re too polite (and can’t be bothered) to argue, we decide it’s best to avoid this ‘shortcut’ anyway.
The grassy climb up from Dale Head is a toughie as we fight for traction and I’m secretly pleased for the short respite as we join some tarmac, where we doff our helmets to the beaters lining the roadside, while the shooters take their places in the grouse butts to our right. We’re soon back offroad, crossing the wet moorland to emerge by Fat Betty, a medieval stone cross marker. There are various myths and legends about its history – one being that two nuns who attended Rosedale Abbey got lost in thick fog on the moor and were found dead, so the cross was set up to commemorate them. Whatever the truth, custom has it that edible offerings are left here for weary travellers. That results in lots of litter being left around, so we spend some time dutifully combing the area, picking up numerous wrappers.
The final hurdle
After a fast hack along the road, which warms us back up, we turn left, back onto the moors, where our progress is slowed significantly along a wet, boggy track. Thankfully, a lovely stone-slab packhorse pathway saves us from sinking into the bog of doom. When that disappears, we have to rely on riding hard and fast, with powerful pedal strokes and weight right back, to just inch our way through. It’s more than worth the effort though, because the descent into the Hub’s home valley is an awesome, steep, technical affair, which takes us from the barren moors down into the rich greenness below, and is especially tricky in this current damp climate. There isn’t much of an opportunity to stop, so once I’m past the point of no return, with my dropper post slammed, I slither around the hairpin bends, almost enjoying the lack of control.
Riding on fumes and adrenaline, we charge along the valley on the homeward straight, where we can almost smell the cake and coffee waiting for us. It’s getting dark as we finally roll down the drive to the Hub, with just enough time to grab a shower, hose down the bikes and flop back into the seats we occupied just a few hours earlier. This time though, we feel like we thoroughly deserve the right to devour the coffee and cake, as we start to formulate plans for the next adventure we can embark upon straight from the doors of the Hub, in this beautiful part of the world.