Summary
| Distance: 76.9 km | Estimated Time: 7:41 | |
| Total Ascent: 1554 m | Total Descent: 1710 m |
Route
Elevation Profile
Slideshow
You Tube
Best on a big screen in HD, otherwise it looks a bit grainy and naff ...
Description
This is the fifth and final day of our offroad coast-to-coast bike ride.
Onwards and Upwards
We awoke to the welcoming breakfast smells eminating from the Golden Lion kitchen. Last night we'd eaten our fill and collapsed into the welcoming arms of sleep well before midnight. Unfortunately I had a wrestless nights sleep despite the bed being easily the most comfortable of the trip. I think it was just a bit too cosy, the pillows were too plump (there's no pleasing some folk eh?!)
We breakfasted well on a full English (not ideal biking fodder but it was paid for so it was jolly well going to be eaten!). Jon had to head back home and Cleggy would drive the van. Finding accommodation at this late stage in Whitby proved nigh on impossible so we settled for Scarborough. With such formalities taken care off Kieran, Lee and I paused for a team photograph then forced our achey frames onto the bikes. At this stage the hole in my shorts was becoming positively obscene but bereft of a needle and thread there was nothing for it but to sit back in the saddle and try not to make it any worse.
The North York Moors
The're was rain in them there clouds as we peddled merrily northwards out of sleepy Osmotherley and past Cod Beck Reservoir. You need to keep a careful look out for the right hand turn onto the Cleveland Way, it's just by a cattle grid at Scarth Nick. We headed through the wooded Lime Kiln Bank and dropped down to Scugdale Beck on a narrow country lane. At this point the valley steepens and just like on day one when approaching Black Sail Pass, there appears to be no way out. There is ofcourse, but unfortunately it's up a nasty rutted track that was unridable at the time due to the recent rainfall. There is a track just to the right that looks much better, but it's private. In future I'd be tempted to use that instead. We pushed up the climb and were soon looking down on Barkers Crags, a precariously perched rock face that Kieran used to do hone his rock-climbing skills on when younger. We summited then let the hands off the brakes as we flew down towards Wath. At this point I messed up the navigation, you're not supposed to ride straight past the farmhouse but we did and we weren't about to go back up the way we'd came. Apologies to the farmer.
Urra Moor
After a little bit of twisty-windy country lane-age we found ourselves in Chop Gate, a wonderfully named place just up the road from Cock Flat would you believe. Here we could see the imposingly vast Urra Moor ascending hundreds of meters from Bilsdale Beck. We considered two possible routes up, one heading up from Seave Green, the other a few k's north opposite Hasty Bank. Neither looked very friendly and as it happens I was having a bad day with the map, so we missed the Seave Green option and had to battle the forces of gravity on the north western flank of the moor. We met a few walkers on this section, and were forced to walk ourselves up the stepped-moorside. In ten minutes or so we were atop Urra Moor and the views were worth it. Backwards (to the west) were the moors we'd just skipped over, to the north was Middlesborough, contrasting nature's beauty with mankinds beast, typified by Billingham's billowing chemical plants (formerly ICI). The site was Ridley Scotts inspiration for the city-scape of Bladerunner. Then looking eastwards we have the rest of the North York Moors National Park panning out and begging to be ridden over!
The moor top was covered with heather, it was a beautiful sight, a whole hillside bedecked in royal purple. Enough of that! We battled the cross-wind and reached the trig point at Round Hill on a well graded sandy track and made our way to the Bloworth Crossing. From here you can pick up a disused railway line that curves around Farndale Moor. The railway line (variously named Ingleby and Rosedale) was built in the early 1860's to haul iron from Rosedale. At it's peak half-a-million tonnes of iron a year was excavated. The line closed in the mid 1920's. The conditions up here in the winter must have been terrible, we rode this in mid-summer and the wind was howling and the rain threatening to derail us. After rounding Farndale Moor the wind was at our backs and we made good progress along the railway line. Then the heavens opened.
The Lion Inn
We ducked for cover at the Lion Inn. We've passed this place by on several occasions, convinced it was actually The Slaughtered Lamb pub in American Werewolf in London. It just has that air about it! Needs must though and as we entered the little doorway we were suddenly in a whole new world. From the outside the pub looked empty, but when we nosed inside it was brimming with walkers who'd taken shelter and availed themselves of the facilities. Marvellous! A steak sandwich and pint later and musing about spending a New Years Eve here, we reluctantly braved the elements and went forth north.
Glaisedale Moor
Visibility was low as the cloud enveloped us. We stayed on the road, heading accross Danby High Moor and then south towards Rosedale before spotting a left (you have to be alert for it) that takes you right onto Glaisedale Moor. The singletrack at this point is a mixture of stone slabs and heather roots. It's fairly narrow and a little tricky in these conditions. We'd turned out of the wind at last and now it was at our backs. I stood up tall on my bike and just let the wind use my body as a sail until we stopped for a photo as the clouds parted and revealed the U-shaped valley that is Great Fryupdale. The moodiness of the skies added to the view as shafts of sunlight illuminated the valley below. Stunning really.
We cracked on with the wind still at our backs and I really enjoyed the terrain along the High Moor/Glaisedale ridge. We were able to ride it at pace which made fun single track into really fun single track. After a short but sweet road section along Glaisedale Rigg we picked up a wide track that deposited us in Glaisedale itself in no time at all. With the winds' assistance we had outridden the celestial menace. As we looked back it looked fairly ugly. We'd lost a lot of height too by now.
You Are The Weakest Link
The only way was up from here. It was batting it down again so we stayed on road instead of taking a cheeky little offroad section through East Arnecliff Wood (is it any good?). The road was steep and rather nicely named Limber Hill. Unfortunately my chain wasn't feeling too limber as I stomped my way up the hill. I'd left it in a big gear to be fair and instead of dropping down just thought I'd force my way up the incline. My chain had other ideas. I felt it go and eased off just enough to leave the link not quite completely severed. I walked to the top of the hill (defeat!) where Wiggo and I fixed the chain accompanied by Kieran who took some pictures of my predicament as well as a couple of friendly chickens which seemed to be taking an interest in our antics.
Egton Bridge and Grosmont
Having been punished for not taking the offroad route through the woods a Glaisedale we took to a grand little section of doubletrack that runs between the two villages of Egton Bridge and Grosmont. It is flanked on the northern side by the Grosmont railway line and on the southern side by the river Esk, which flows from the moors all the way to Whitby. After a bit of front detailer adjustment to my bike (the shortened chain had been causing some grinding sound effects for a couple of k's) we were soon in Grosmont. For the first time today the sun had properly poked it's head out from behind the clouds. It was lovely to have the sun on our backs for a change. No time to stand and stare at Grosmont's quaint 1950's railway station, instead we debated going through the valley floor and around Sleights Moor because we were running out of daylight, but as the sun was shining we decided to take on the last big climb of the journey.
Sleights Moor
The road climb up the western side of Sleights Moor is fairly harsh as far as road climbs go. It's not exactly long, but it is steep, about a 1 in 3. At this stage in proceedings it's just another hill. My legs were feeling fine and indeed the last time we did this trip I remember flying up this hill as if it weren't really there (slight exaggeration, but you get the point). It's amazing how the human body quickly adapts to the demands we place upon it. Five days ago this climb would have been hard work, today it feels like a gentle warm up, something to be relished. The best thing about getting to the top of Sleights Moor is that unless the weather is absolutely abyssmal, you are virtually guaranteed a sighting of the sea. Sure enough Whitby Abbey came into view and beyond it the shores of the North Sea. Get In!
Dude, Where's My Bridleway?
With the finishing line tantalisingly in close (you can't actually see Robin Hoods Bay just yet (RHB from now on)), we headed straight accross the A169 and onto a gated gravel track. There had been some significant 'land-reassignment' works going on here at Greenlands Howe. We could see a ridge in the distance that we'd have to climb up and over in order to drop down to the coast beyond, unfortunately someone had moved the bridleway and forgotten to mention it. After no small amount of head scratching resulting in me getting split up from Kieran and Lee for a while as I scouted a new route, we eventually picked up a bridleway that did exist and found ourselves somewhere near Leas Head Farm. Sign-posting of tracks seems optional in this area so we fumbled along Parsley Beck to Foss Farm, through Falling Foss (a waterfall presumably) and then up onto a road at long last. This section was messy and hardwork in terms of navigation I'm not sure I'd recommend it. If you have the time (as we did last trip) I'd recommend cruising over Fylingdales Moor - it's a fair distance longer but the tracks are better and more navigable. Fortunately Lee and Kieran were able to put up with me getting us lost on the brink of darkness one last time. Sorry lads!
Robin Hoods Bay
Once on the road we hot footed it Le Tour style towards RHB. As the sunlight faded we put our heads down for one final push to the finish line. The sight of Kieran going over the crest of the road on the B1447 was a splendid one as the vast expanse of ocean came into view.
The road plunges downwards towards the village. We spotted Cleggy's van faithfully awaiting our belated arrival. Within seconds we were taking in the views of the bay. We had a couple of photographs at the top part of the village then hooned down to the beach for a couple more. It must've been gone 9pm by the time we arrived. Just time for a celebratory pint at Wainwrights pub!
Post-ride we loaded the van (I'd snapped my chain again hoiking up the steep road that climbs out of the village, whoops!) and went headed to the Scarborough Fair Hotel. After a mighty quick shower we skipped into town and stopped at the first curry house we came accross, called Tikka Tikka. We wasted no time in launching into a couple of king-sized bottles of Cobra before replenishing our depleted energy reserves with some much needed fodder. You beauty!
Onwards and Upwards
We awoke to the welcoming breakfast smells eminating from the Golden Lion kitchen. Last night we'd eaten our fill and collapsed into the welcoming arms of sleep well before midnight. Unfortunately I had a wrestless nights sleep despite the bed being easily the most comfortable of the trip. I think it was just a bit too cosy, the pillows were too plump (there's no pleasing some folk eh?!)
We breakfasted well on a full English (not ideal biking fodder but it was paid for so it was jolly well going to be eaten!). Jon had to head back home and Cleggy would drive the van. Finding accommodation at this late stage in Whitby proved nigh on impossible so we settled for Scarborough. With such formalities taken care off Kieran, Lee and I paused for a team photograph then forced our achey frames onto the bikes. At this stage the hole in my shorts was becoming positively obscene but bereft of a needle and thread there was nothing for it but to sit back in the saddle and try not to make it any worse.
The North York Moors
The're was rain in them there clouds as we peddled merrily northwards out of sleepy Osmotherley and past Cod Beck Reservoir. You need to keep a careful look out for the right hand turn onto the Cleveland Way, it's just by a cattle grid at Scarth Nick. We headed through the wooded Lime Kiln Bank and dropped down to Scugdale Beck on a narrow country lane. At this point the valley steepens and just like on day one when approaching Black Sail Pass, there appears to be no way out. There is ofcourse, but unfortunately it's up a nasty rutted track that was unridable at the time due to the recent rainfall. There is a track just to the right that looks much better, but it's private. In future I'd be tempted to use that instead. We pushed up the climb and were soon looking down on Barkers Crags, a precariously perched rock face that Kieran used to do hone his rock-climbing skills on when younger. We summited then let the hands off the brakes as we flew down towards Wath. At this point I messed up the navigation, you're not supposed to ride straight past the farmhouse but we did and we weren't about to go back up the way we'd came. Apologies to the farmer.
Urra Moor
After a little bit of twisty-windy country lane-age we found ourselves in Chop Gate, a wonderfully named place just up the road from Cock Flat would you believe. Here we could see the imposingly vast Urra Moor ascending hundreds of meters from Bilsdale Beck. We considered two possible routes up, one heading up from Seave Green, the other a few k's north opposite Hasty Bank. Neither looked very friendly and as it happens I was having a bad day with the map, so we missed the Seave Green option and had to battle the forces of gravity on the north western flank of the moor. We met a few walkers on this section, and were forced to walk ourselves up the stepped-moorside. In ten minutes or so we were atop Urra Moor and the views were worth it. Backwards (to the west) were the moors we'd just skipped over, to the north was Middlesborough, contrasting nature's beauty with mankinds beast, typified by Billingham's billowing chemical plants (formerly ICI). The site was Ridley Scotts inspiration for the city-scape of Bladerunner. Then looking eastwards we have the rest of the North York Moors National Park panning out and begging to be ridden over!
The moor top was covered with heather, it was a beautiful sight, a whole hillside bedecked in royal purple. Enough of that! We battled the cross-wind and reached the trig point at Round Hill on a well graded sandy track and made our way to the Bloworth Crossing. From here you can pick up a disused railway line that curves around Farndale Moor. The railway line (variously named Ingleby and Rosedale) was built in the early 1860's to haul iron from Rosedale. At it's peak half-a-million tonnes of iron a year was excavated. The line closed in the mid 1920's. The conditions up here in the winter must have been terrible, we rode this in mid-summer and the wind was howling and the rain threatening to derail us. After rounding Farndale Moor the wind was at our backs and we made good progress along the railway line. Then the heavens opened.
The Lion Inn
We ducked for cover at the Lion Inn. We've passed this place by on several occasions, convinced it was actually The Slaughtered Lamb pub in American Werewolf in London. It just has that air about it! Needs must though and as we entered the little doorway we were suddenly in a whole new world. From the outside the pub looked empty, but when we nosed inside it was brimming with walkers who'd taken shelter and availed themselves of the facilities. Marvellous! A steak sandwich and pint later and musing about spending a New Years Eve here, we reluctantly braved the elements and went forth north.
Glaisedale Moor
Visibility was low as the cloud enveloped us. We stayed on the road, heading accross Danby High Moor and then south towards Rosedale before spotting a left (you have to be alert for it) that takes you right onto Glaisedale Moor. The singletrack at this point is a mixture of stone slabs and heather roots. It's fairly narrow and a little tricky in these conditions. We'd turned out of the wind at last and now it was at our backs. I stood up tall on my bike and just let the wind use my body as a sail until we stopped for a photo as the clouds parted and revealed the U-shaped valley that is Great Fryupdale. The moodiness of the skies added to the view as shafts of sunlight illuminated the valley below. Stunning really.
We cracked on with the wind still at our backs and I really enjoyed the terrain along the High Moor/Glaisedale ridge. We were able to ride it at pace which made fun single track into really fun single track. After a short but sweet road section along Glaisedale Rigg we picked up a wide track that deposited us in Glaisedale itself in no time at all. With the winds' assistance we had outridden the celestial menace. As we looked back it looked fairly ugly. We'd lost a lot of height too by now.
You Are The Weakest Link
The only way was up from here. It was batting it down again so we stayed on road instead of taking a cheeky little offroad section through East Arnecliff Wood (is it any good?). The road was steep and rather nicely named Limber Hill. Unfortunately my chain wasn't feeling too limber as I stomped my way up the hill. I'd left it in a big gear to be fair and instead of dropping down just thought I'd force my way up the incline. My chain had other ideas. I felt it go and eased off just enough to leave the link not quite completely severed. I walked to the top of the hill (defeat!) where Wiggo and I fixed the chain accompanied by Kieran who took some pictures of my predicament as well as a couple of friendly chickens which seemed to be taking an interest in our antics.
Egton Bridge and Grosmont
Having been punished for not taking the offroad route through the woods a Glaisedale we took to a grand little section of doubletrack that runs between the two villages of Egton Bridge and Grosmont. It is flanked on the northern side by the Grosmont railway line and on the southern side by the river Esk, which flows from the moors all the way to Whitby. After a bit of front detailer adjustment to my bike (the shortened chain had been causing some grinding sound effects for a couple of k's) we were soon in Grosmont. For the first time today the sun had properly poked it's head out from behind the clouds. It was lovely to have the sun on our backs for a change. No time to stand and stare at Grosmont's quaint 1950's railway station, instead we debated going through the valley floor and around Sleights Moor because we were running out of daylight, but as the sun was shining we decided to take on the last big climb of the journey.
Sleights Moor
The road climb up the western side of Sleights Moor is fairly harsh as far as road climbs go. It's not exactly long, but it is steep, about a 1 in 3. At this stage in proceedings it's just another hill. My legs were feeling fine and indeed the last time we did this trip I remember flying up this hill as if it weren't really there (slight exaggeration, but you get the point). It's amazing how the human body quickly adapts to the demands we place upon it. Five days ago this climb would have been hard work, today it feels like a gentle warm up, something to be relished. The best thing about getting to the top of Sleights Moor is that unless the weather is absolutely abyssmal, you are virtually guaranteed a sighting of the sea. Sure enough Whitby Abbey came into view and beyond it the shores of the North Sea. Get In!
Dude, Where's My Bridleway?
With the finishing line tantalisingly in close (you can't actually see Robin Hoods Bay just yet (RHB from now on)), we headed straight accross the A169 and onto a gated gravel track. There had been some significant 'land-reassignment' works going on here at Greenlands Howe. We could see a ridge in the distance that we'd have to climb up and over in order to drop down to the coast beyond, unfortunately someone had moved the bridleway and forgotten to mention it. After no small amount of head scratching resulting in me getting split up from Kieran and Lee for a while as I scouted a new route, we eventually picked up a bridleway that did exist and found ourselves somewhere near Leas Head Farm. Sign-posting of tracks seems optional in this area so we fumbled along Parsley Beck to Foss Farm, through Falling Foss (a waterfall presumably) and then up onto a road at long last. This section was messy and hardwork in terms of navigation I'm not sure I'd recommend it. If you have the time (as we did last trip) I'd recommend cruising over Fylingdales Moor - it's a fair distance longer but the tracks are better and more navigable. Fortunately Lee and Kieran were able to put up with me getting us lost on the brink of darkness one last time. Sorry lads!
Robin Hoods Bay
Once on the road we hot footed it Le Tour style towards RHB. As the sunlight faded we put our heads down for one final push to the finish line. The sight of Kieran going over the crest of the road on the B1447 was a splendid one as the vast expanse of ocean came into view.
The road plunges downwards towards the village. We spotted Cleggy's van faithfully awaiting our belated arrival. Within seconds we were taking in the views of the bay. We had a couple of photographs at the top part of the village then hooned down to the beach for a couple more. It must've been gone 9pm by the time we arrived. Just time for a celebratory pint at Wainwrights pub!
Post-ride we loaded the van (I'd snapped my chain again hoiking up the steep road that climbs out of the village, whoops!) and went headed to the Scarborough Fair Hotel. After a mighty quick shower we skipped into town and stopped at the first curry house we came accross, called Tikka Tikka. We wasted no time in launching into a couple of king-sized bottles of Cobra before replenishing our depleted energy reserves with some much needed fodder. You beauty!
