The Slough Of Despond.

Mountain Bike Ride

The Breadlad

4th April route

The Slough Of Despond is a fictional bog in The Pilgrim’s Progress, where sinners sink under the weight of their sins; the sins of me and The Breadlad are, naturally, negligible, so it must have been the bikes and the incessant rain which conspired to drag us to the miry depths. Mentally and physically. Guisborough Woods is suffering, the trails are gloop, which my dictionary defines as, “sloppy or sticky semi-fluid matter, typically something unpleasant”. Couldn’t have put it better myself. Of course, anyone with any sense would stick to the fire roads and be satisfied with fresh air and exercise; lacking that much sense means we are forever tempted by a tree-framed singletrack disappearing into a dark woodland or a promising trail pointing down a hillside. Especially one we have not ridden before, there is an irrational optimism that somehow this trail has been bypassed by the monsoon weather and if not exactly dry and dusty, will be only slightly moist and eminently rideable. And, click, click, back in the room, hub-deep sludge, traction-free slopes following an undeviating groove in the clart to an inevitable conclusion, usually involving mud, blood and bruises.

The Breadlad, newly returned from his most recent overseas sojourn, was enthusiastic to be reunited with his bike and the local trails. His companion, being more than aware of the past fortnight’s near continuous precipitation was more circumspect. Even a fortnight is putting it generously, 2018 has been wetter than otter’s pocket thus far and showing no signs of getting better, a newspaper article yesterday offered that it may get warm in six weeks - so that’s something to look forward to eh?

Our route for today was vague involving a few hours gap between showers and a lot of looking at trail starts before dismissing them as too messy to be abused further. We used a few better surfaced tracks to make our way between quagmires and yes, we enjoyed the exercise. The few trails we attempted were all filed away in the ‘it’ll be good when it is dry’ cabinet, mainly to excuse our dismal performance. Although the when it is dry bit seems a long way off barring a science fiction type apocalypse where the earth heats up and we get in a bit of decent riding just before spontaneously combusting into a pool of molten body fat and tyre rubber. The couple of hours of slow climbs and slower descents was still hugely enjoyable and preferable to the spouse led alternatives on offer which would inevitably involve shops of the non-bike variety or DIY drudgery. From previous experience, we know the place will dry up sometime, this year somewhat later than usual but this is why God invented abroad.

We arrived at the Branch Walkway Cafe looking as though we had just clawed our way out of a grave, mud-splattered and, despite the lack of rain, surprisingly wet. The cafe staff, well used to seeing mountain bikers in their natural state did not bat an eyelid and we were soon getting on the outside of coffee and sandwiches as the weather forecast proved disappointingly accurate and the afternoon rain began.