Never Pay Attention To McDonald's Directions - 25th April 2011

Newburn to Matfen and back - Approx 25 miles

Easter Bank Holiday Monday, and we'd decided in the pub the previous Saturday to go up to Maften for a change. There's a cafe there, and they do the best scones or something. I'm not one to pass up a cafe, so it was agreed.
Jim's a closet road biker, but he promised to bring the mountain bike so we'd go at the same speed.
"As long as it's quiet roads" I said.

Monday brought some dry weather, not quite the blazing inferno it had been all weekend, so that was good. The bikes were loaded up into the back of Jim's van, and we drove along to Newburn, to the car park near the Big Lamp pub.

Captain Mainwaring ready for duty.

Soon we were rattling along the Wylam Waggon Way. Jim was on his "racing slicks", touring tyres, a bit thinner and a bit smoother. Basically faster. Depressingly faster than my big knobblys actually.
They've resurfaced most of this over the last year, which while better than the dirt track it was before, the tarmac isn't the best quality. Bump, bump, bump. Maybe I need some more padding as well as slick tyres.

Wylam was reached fairly quickly, and we left the Waggon Way there, and headed through the village, and then up Holeyn Hall Rd. 
"Up" being the right word. It's a bit of a climb. Young legs and a weight advantage were in my favour, but I don't like to get too far ahead of the old man, so I hung around for him. As things were to transpire, maybe I should have got a head start.
After a breather, Jim set off at a pace as it was bit flatter now, and crossed the bridge over the A69. It's a dual carriageway, it's the only way to cross it really. I was a bit slow off the mark, so when I got to the the roundabout at the top, no sign of Jim. I guessed a direction, went around a corner and no sign of him, so decided I'd taken the wrong route and went the other way.

Jim's up there somewhere. That hill up ahead looks steeper in real life.

I saw him vanishing off into the distance, just cresting a hill, so at least I was on the right road.
But you can't really pedal fast enough to catch a bike with fast tyres on.
I caught up with him eventually the other side of the Military Road, after he'd finally decided to stop, in fact he was facing towards me.
"Thought you'd had a puncture". Comedy genius.

Rape seed is evil. It stinks.

Well, we ambled along for a bit, or rather Jim ambled, and I pedalled along in much too high a gear, trying to keep up. Tough on the hills.
4 miles later and we arrived in Stamfordham, no stopping though. Jim was on a mission for scones. I was on a mission for more padding.

He did however stop a bit further up ahead when he spied a horse, and our resident Dr Doolittle couldn't resist. He'd seduced it with grass by the time I arrived.

Phwoaar.

It was a gentle slope uphill for another 3 miles or so that brought us into Matfen just after 3pm. And the promise of scones.
Promise that was to be sadly thrown into the cruel pit of despair.

*$#%! 3pm !!!!!

Bastards... missed it by minutes. We weren't the only ones. While we had a sit down a few people stopped by for scones.

Nice place for a Jelly Baby though

Jim's bike and those bloody tyres.

Well, I figured we'd head back the way we came, but no. Off we went out the other end of the village. Ian, our newly "bionic" cyclist chum had told Jim about this lovely route back, so I followed (again), and soon we came to the turn off.
But then Jim decided it wasn't the turn off and we carried on for another mile. Until we came to another road. The Military Road.
Oh well, I figured we'd be on it for a minute or so to the junction up ahead. Jim was already off at pace, so I tagged along. And then he just cycled past the junction and kept going.

We pulled in at the Robin Hood Inn, and I broke out the phone. GPS and Google Maps, very handy. Well, turn off's were ahead but the first was a bit dodgy for getting across the A69, so we carried on. Next one was at the top of Harlow Hill, a nasty steep little climb, but it would take us under the A69, so that was agreed on.
Jim had a lead on me, I was catching him on the hill though. I thought he'd wait at the top, but the traffic queued up behind seemed to distract him as he ignored the turn-off and careered off down the hill at breakneck pace.

Watching Jim ride off into the distance. No swearing. Deep breaths.

Not much choice but to ride on.
4 miles we did on the Military Road. On a Bank Holiday. Grrrrrr.
This riding lark is supposed to be good for my health you know.

Well, I eventually caught him up. He never saw the junction he was supposed to take. Maybe he needs some new specs for cycling, but we turned off at the next one (after consulting the gps and Google Maps again) and we ended up back at the roundabout where I'd taken a wrong turn earlier. Result.


We hurtled back down the hill to Wylam, and despite trailing in Jim's gravity and tyre assisted wake, I still got over 30mph. That was fun. Made up for the earlier slog.


And then back along the Waggon Way to Newburn and the van. Into a bloody headwind.
Despite all that, still came out with an average speed of 11.6mph. 
That explains why my legs are killing me.

Maybe I'll pick the route next weekend.

As I have no kml storage, here's the route. GPS didn't start until Wylam, so add 3 miles on at start. Click for big.

A Quick One Before They Cut It Off - 8th April 2011

Swalwell to Consett and back again along the Derwent Walk
(approximately 24 miles)

Greetings. Someone's still reading this blog? Blimey.
Well, due to getting a new phone which has a camera in it that takes picture bigger than a postage stamp, I thought it was time to dust the cobwebs off the blog and post again.
We also dusted the cobwebs off Jim, for his first ride of the year.
He's a "fair weather cyclist".


I had a rare day off, and Ian was counting down the days till some "surgeon" hacks away at his knee and replaces it with a Lego one. Sort of a last chance to have a pedal.

So, on a sunny Friday afternoon, it was off for a Magical Mystery Tour in Jim's van to the bottom of the Derwent Walk at Swalwell.

Soon rolling along at a steady pace.
For about half a mile.

I'd forgotten to turn the GPS on (for blogging purposes), and Jim needed to fiddle about.

A bar fly adjusting his bar ends.

Peter's And Lee - The Reunion

Not the fastest of starts then, but we managed at least another mile, before stopping at the Nine Arches Viaduct for Jim (Doctor Doolittle) to do a spot of birdwatching.

A Red Kite. In the distance. The far distance.

I call this composition "Two Chancers On a Viaduct"

Two rest stops in the first 15 mins wasn't the frantic pace I'd had in mind when we set off, so I put my foot on the gas a bit, and we started to get somewhere.

As it turns out, old man Jim was suprisingly speedy, what with having his racing slicks on, so we managed to make some decent progress. It is all uphill you know!

We had a quick rest at the old station at Lintz Green, where we gave out some directions to a cyclist from Darlington who wanted to get to Chopwell Woods. Not sure if we're the best ones to ask directions from, but there you go.

It was a pretty warm day in the sun, just nice for cycling, and a bit further on we had a sit down just past Ebchester to take on water, where a scene of horror unfolded.

Schwarzenegger let himself go after Terminator 2

He's an arty bastard is our resident wedding photographer

Jesus F***in' Christ!!!!

Some photos have to be covered up to protect the innocent out there. I have no idea what was going on here, the things you see when you get your camera back.

Perhaps driven on by the horrors just witnessed, we set off again, Ian at a particularly breakneck speed. By the time we got up to the old steel works at Consett, he was long gone in the distance.
I hung back for Jim on the hills, as he's getting on a bit now, and this was his first ride for six months. (He claims)

"I've fallen Vic, and I can't get up"

Not tired at all, just getting going in fact.

When we caught him up, and after Jim had stopped to have a natter to some bloke at an allotment, we eventually rolled up to Hownsgill Tea Rooms, which thankfully was open.

Pot of tea, toasties, some chips, and a plate sized wedge of Banoffee Gateaux and cream. 

Is this the face of a man about to get his leg replaced?

He can look quite normal sometimes

Banoffee Gateaux and Cream - well, it was earlier.

The farm where the tea room is located was obviously in the middle of lambing season. And despite the fact they wouldn't stand still for 5 minutes, a photo was taken.

They'll have eaten it by now.

Well, they have to close sometime, so we had to get on the bikes again eventually.

At least it's downhill most of the way back, and we raced along.

Me and Ian had a little bit of a race the last 2 miles, full tilt. Talk about knackered. But it was Ian's last fling for a while. Mind, I wasn't going to let "Competative Ian" win. That wouldn't do, and it didn't matter if he broke something on the knee as they were bunging a new one in. Might as well get a last go out of it.

We was sweating buckets when we arrived back at the transport.

Jim arrived 5 mins later.

Sweaty chaps. Ian is still distorting the world around him.

The Winnaaaar!

So, a decent ride out for Ian's last hurrah. Who knows when the Bionic Man will get back out on the bike? I might have to post a blog or two just to keep the world informed.

I have a kml file of the route, but the internet is being evil and my hosting has died a bit since the last time I used it. I'll get around to it.