As I sit here in my window seat writing this blog, the depths of winter are all to clear to see with a simple glance out the window in to my garden. Fundamentally typical of the season, it’s raining. I have just come in from cleaning the bike after yet another mud fest. Everything is sodden already and, now, mother nature has seen fit to add another rinse to the wash.
It is at times like this that one (a mountain biker) can start to feel slightly trapped. A Catch-22, if you like. Ground Hog Day. Despair ascends and thoughts like “it’s raining, meh” or “will I ever see nice trails again” start to surface. With temperatures averaging only single digits, the winter months can often feel neither here nor there; not proper winter where frozen trails and azure skies inspire multi-layered epics nor dry enough (because it hasn’t dried yet) to warrant playing about in the woods on jumps etc. Just crap!
• It only takes one day.
Come the end of February, when the green shoots start to reappear, as temperatures start to rise (marginally), one immediately starts to think of better days to come. March is usually a nice and reliable month of the year. Like September, particularly in the Midlands, it tends to remain fairly settled and, in the most part, reasonably dry.
However, the Gregorian calendar and the meteorological seasons rarely combine and there is, quite often, a brief sting in the tale as winter passes with one last chill for the bones. It usually means the end of my plums, as the early blossom succumbs to the freezing temperatures. I had 5 this year. The wasps ate those.Many a day are spent wondering when the bitter weather is going to pass and, just as you think it can’t go on any longer, that day finally arrives. Opening the curtains on that morning is like climbing back through the closet from Narnia; leaving behind the bitterness of Winterland and the White Witch.
Strangely, the day that casts aside the spells of winter looks remarkably similar from the other side of the window pane to that of a crisp winter morning. A crisp blue sky, usually a manifestation of blocking highs up in the atmosphere; can result, during late Feb/ early March, in a cold and frosty morning. Stepping outside, however, one is cast mute as you marvel at how warm it is. Get your shorts on, its time to ride!!!Come end of March, early April, it’s time to ditch those tights and the base layer (maybe) and get out on them trails. What does Bredon Hill have to offer in the spring? Well, them trails might look dry but 4-5 months of rainy days take their toll. Moist is usually an understatement and Cotswolds mud can be a right royal pain in the arse.
Whilst I’m generally thrilled to be out in the sunshine, it can be a bit of a slog if the chosen trail is picked unwisely. Sticking to the stony singletrack of the southern side of Bredon Hill one will find dried out bedrock that rolls nicely. However, I like to get to over to the tower. Its a bit of a focal point and often defines the half way point of a ride. Its the perfect panoramic view point to look out over the surrounding counties (whilst munching on a cliff bar).
The Muffin Top:
The route up to the tower, particularly from the south, is rocky. The trails and Bridleways well worn to exposed bedrock (its not that far below the surface generally). As such, in early spring it becomes the go to route to the top. Doing so means avoiding most of the soft stuff.Obviously spring is not all sunshine and flowers. Bredon hill can often be completely obscured from view as it comes under the scrutiny of low lying cloud. Being so exposed, and segregated from the main Cotswold escarpment, it often suffers its own micro climate. Whilst the Vale of Evesham is bathing in sunshine Bredon Hill can often appear to be missing its summit. The winds from the west that generally whip up the western side of the hill and keep it clear can also stall around the top on more suppressed days leaving the low cloud to hang around, forming a bit of a Muffin Top.
It creates a strange and eery atmosphere to ride in. Ephemeral, cold, quiet. It makes the ride far more insular as vision is restricted. That is until one descends back down the hill and in to the warmth (hopefully) of the surrounding foothills. This phenomenon tends to occur more in spring than any other month as the humidity and temperature combine to make heavy, low lying cloud.
May oft brings more opportunities. With the ground generally drier and the fields yet to be overcome by enemy livestock, gates tend to lay/remain open and the downhill runs are free of obstacles (fixed and moving) from top to bottom. They may still be soft in places - in particular, where the surface water beck passes over the plateau mid way down Doctor's wood descent/climb. Although, I have, in years past, experienced drier trails in spring than in summer.
As the season moves in to summer, the hill comes fully awake. With sheep and cows grazing the land (Wild deer also roam these slopes) and the arable crops at full maturity, the rural character of this hillside is explicitly apparent.
Riding ones local trails throughout the year is a great way to experience the differences brought about by the growth and wain of the suns influence through the seasons. Many a word has been writ about the pursuit of new trails as being a mountain bikers birth given predilection. To be honest though, you can get the same type of feeling from riding the same trail at the four corners of the year.
Each seasons brings about very different climatic conditions and the trails tend to reflect this. The atmosphere, the surroundings also. It doesn’t matter if the trails go in the same direction. Just get out there and ride your bike.
