A hill through four seasons - winter

Bredon Hill - A Bleak Mid-Winter:

Standard view from Bredon Tower on an average day. Up here it doesn't look that crappy

Snow drifts/rain storm/hurricane/I can’t be bothered (delete as appropriate). Let’s be honest, the dark and dreary days of mid-winter can be soul destroying for a mountain biker. The trails no longer flow with the seamless ease of summer - they don’t really flow at all. Short days and colder, persistently inclement weather will render all but the most well drained soils pure slop in no time. From the mildly moist, loamy stuff we are all generally exposed to throughout the year (I’m excluding nice, dry and dusty trails as this is normally a pipe dream for most residents of middle england) to 6 inch deep slop that, if you don’t keep pedalling, will simply swallow you whole; normally followed by a ‘dignifying’ dance in your grip-less mtb shoes - seriously, how can Five Tens (other shoes available) be so grippy on a pedal but worthless on literally everything else.

Its great that British Mountain Bike designers place lots of emphasis on mud clearance in their frame designs. That extra space is a blessing on the worst of days. Providing additional storage for all that extra mud you really wanted to carry along with you. I live and ride in the Cotswolds and, in the summer, there’s no better place (IMO) but winter is a curse. Cotswold soils are clay based and get very cloying in the wet; a bike can resemble a monster truck within 5 feet of a muddy trail, resulting in regular drag-a-bike exercises and subsequent cleaning a-la sturdy stick. In this instance, the extra mud clearance not really helping.

Stick cleaning in progress

From dour experience, I have learnt to avoid particular trails during this time of the year, especially with regard to my local trails/Bridleways off Bredon Hill. Once upon a time, there may have come a moment, often coincident with the sun coming out for a few days, where I have been lured into attempting a run down Two Bridges, for example. I’ve learnt the hard way to avoid that route until April, probably May, at the earliest.

Winter often becomes an exercise in restraint, avoiding certain trails until conditions improve for fear of badly damaging them. Erosion is a poignant issue when it comes to access rights and I have seen too many trails ruined from miss-use (from cyclists, horses and walkers alike) to know that it is simply not worth it. Bredon has enough variation in trail type that it can accommodate the closure (voluntarily at least) of certain routes during times of the year.

Days are short, there’s lots of rain. With limitations on potential riding opportunities, unless you are weird and you like riding in the rain (or you ride at night but, in winter, come off it!), the slim occasions where the sun is actually shining and the ground is rideable can seem like gifts from some higher deity. Not to be missed. However, in winter, the local trails can often take so long to recover from a spell of rain that you can actually end up as covered in muck as if you'd been out in the rainstorm in the first place.

It becomes wearisome and last winter was a great example. The persistent rain and constant need to perform a full service on the bike, and washing machine, after every ride became too much. I’m not one to shy away from a wet ride and I am a firm believer that any day on the hill, wet or otherwise, is better than being cooped up inside. I would, however, question the mind of anyone who argued that it made no difference whether it were pissing with rain outside.

Despite my best intensions, the motivation to get out the door and up the hill got harder and harder last year. A feeling that was exacerbated by the aftermath of the several snow storms we experienced - think Cola flavoured Slush Puppy and you might get it. Looking past the beauty of it - cos it is beautiful - the repeated snow/melt cycle wreaked havoc to the integrity of the local trails. I actually love riding in the snow. There is a pleasure to be had from riding through such a pure landscape - and I was out in it like most - but the aftermath is generally quite messy.

See, here, I went riding in the snow!

Like a glinting nugget of gold amidst a pan of grit and dirt, the weariness of a grey winter (the season) is all forgotten once real winter arrives. Stepping out on a crisp and frosty morning with moisture rich mist hanging dankly in the air, the sun passing through it creating some kind of ethereal atmosphere. A clear Azure sky above. Leaf litter snapping crisply underfoot; it is a tantalising nugget for the senses amidst an otherwise dark, damp & grey environment.

When the temperatures dip below freezing and the ground hardens, all those trails that have been out of bounds for so long, suddenly become open for business for a few hours. Time to get out there and remind myself of what I’ve been missing.  And, when it snows, well that’s even better. Like draping the country in a pure white vail, the landscape takes on an altogether different quality. I could stare at it all day… but enough of that, I’ve virgin tracks to carve and drifts to jump in to.

Riding in the snow and ice is incredible; the sound of frozen puddles cracking under the pressure of passing tyres, the dull crunch as one carves fresh tracks in the snow. The dicey balance between traction and death-by-trails-so-slick-they-resemble-a-frozen-lake with fingers so cold they can’t actually pull on the brake levers anyway. Watching my breath disipate in front of me as i work to get to the top of the hill and the need to wear as many layers as I can feasibly apply, including ear warmers - despite steaming from inside.  Components on strike and my nose tingles. All this and on top of that, the virtuosity of having ‘got out there’ whilst re-warming your digits in the warmth of a pub fire (or just on the radiator) is warming to the soul.

Bredon Hill can be quite a pleasant experience during summer and in to Autumn. It becomes less so as the year progresses in to Winter and early spring and often feels more like an obligation.

Those trails that I designate as ‘closed for the season’ come the end of Autumn, tend to remain that way until May in some cases. There are exceptions, as noted above, but these are rare. The closure applies to pretty much the entire northern half of the Hill.


Best avoided are the open climb/descent to and from Elmley Castle, which gets particularly boggy due to a passing stream and a plateau in the terrain about halfway down. Also, the trail known as Two Bridges and the extended route down to Comberton, both of which become very wet and sloppy. They are both generally wooded and take a while to dry out come spring too so, unless you fancy practicing your strictly moves, they are best avoided for now.

Whilst they generally fare better, there are earthy trails on the south side too that suffer during winter but most are small sections of otherwise longer and more rocky descents or simply steep enough to cope a bit better with water.

Nevertheless, I tend to avoid the hill more during winter. The lure of the Cannock and the South Wales trails centres and BPW (Bike Park Wales) are too hard to resist under the circumstances.