Beadle's Bash (or How to Keep your Man Happy) Final Day

... mountain biking is all about getting on the bike regardless of the weather, in fact some say the worse the weather the greater the challenge. A certain perversity of nature is an asset when it comes to biking in the UK and this theory holds even more weight when it comes to multi-day rides because you can't look at the weather over breakfast on day three and say 'nah, not biking today cos I can't see a bleeding thing' which is what we wanted to say on the final day of our Beadle's Bash route. The day had loads of potential we were going over Glaisdale Moor, Danby & Ainthorpe Rigg, Hograh Moor, Baysdale Moor ... so the route included lots of that 'I'm on top of the world' kind of scenery with nobody else in it; perfect for my selfish soul. Unfortunately, most of it was hidden behind layers of freezing fog which persisted despite a chill wind. Still  this was home ground and contained some of my favourite technical sections such as the descent down Ainthorpe Rigg and the route over Hograh Moor ... sections which required my full concentration given my, shall we say, still developing skills! Being positive, it was really a blessing not to be distracted by the natural beauty of the location? 

We arrived in Castleton, the last feed station of the days route, to discover all pubs and tearooms still closed so we made do with a selection of the Co-ops finest which was probably not improved by being squeezed into the none existent space remaining in our packs. Then at Bloworth Crossing we couldn't find the left turn 'along a narrow track through the heather' no matter how hard we looked. Of course by now we could barely find our front wheels the visibility was so bad and we were wearing every item of dry clothing we possessed and still slowly freezing. I'm ashamed to admit it but at this point we ditched the route and took the fastest descent we could find down into Bransdale. Still it would have been far more embarrassing to have required the services of the air ambulance and old age has not dulled my instinct for survival to ride another day. Our detour brought us out in the valley bottom and we had to climb back up to Bransdale ridge to join the final stretch of the route to the finishing line at Helmsley. One more thigh burning ascent seemed like just punishment for our sensible if less than heroic detour from the route. We didn't stop much for scenic photos on Day three but this is one of me once we'd hit the final descent by road  into Helmsley ...