A Hill Through Four Seasons - Spring

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.

With one day, however, that all changes. There may be the odd spell of sun but for some reason or another, it just doesn’t feel like spring. To break the chrysalis that is winter and finally embark on a flight through spring; 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.

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.

Lickey Hills, Barnt Green

...I started writing this entry towards the end of summer. Having started, I realised that I had no photographs (other than this one, immediately below) to document it. Nevertheless, as I typed, I further realised it mattered not. With flora and fauna being so similar throughout middle England, most locations, especially those of classic typology - that is a mix of open pasture, broadleaf and pine wooded hillsides and the odd pocket of common land, looks incredibly similar to each other.  For this blog, I am using photographs from other locations to reinforcing this point... ...maybe one day I'll update and introduce more authentic images.
 

Lickey Hills (country park):

Distance: 13 - 18km
Elevation: 250-350m
Time: 1 - 2 hrs
Grade: Blue/Red
Rating: 3/5

What makes a mountain bike ride a classic? Benji Haworth states, in Singletrack magazine issue 80, that one would reasonably expect big hills, big views and big terrain to be a ‘classic ride’. He offers locations such as the Quantocks, Torridon, Helvellyn; Snowdon or the Long Mynd, Jacobs Ladder or Swaledale as examples that fit this billing.

I don’t disagree with this view. Well, I do a little. You see, to me a classic ride should be more specific than simply saying ‘Snowdon’. There are many routes up and down that there mountain but I would not necessarily regard them all classic. To be so, the route should be fairly synonymous with the location. The Gap, in the Brecon Beacons, is a good example. A single, 20 mile loop that…


Regards Snowdon, one could make a case for the route up from LLanberis and down via the Rangers Path as a classic route. Again, synonymous with the location and well regarded. One on many a bucket list, as Mr Haworth claimed.

The Gap - Brecon Beacon's - The Lickey's are not like this!

Where routes like The Gap (Brecon Beacons) or Sticks Pass (Helvellyn) are the Premier League of Classic routes so too are there the lower divisions. Those rides that encompass the bread and butter of us championship players. Like any conference team, we all strive to play against the big boys once in a while but, of a Saturday (or Sunday) all too often, we have to make to with our local trails.
 

My Local ride - still bears a resemblance for parts of the Lickey's

Snowshill - ridden in a particular direction, even a local loop
can be regarded as a classic route.

More often than not its a case of following our noses; trying a bit of this and a bit of that. Knitting together some semblance of a ride out of the many stray pieces of string we know of as trail. And yet, all too often we find ourselves riding the same pieces in the same direction. Not out of habit but because that's the right way.

Over time, this knowledge is passed on to riding partners, who pass it on further and so on. Eventually, a particular route becomes a classic. 15 years ago, a (riding) friend of mine passed on some of this knowledge for a trail over Snowshill, near Broadway, Worcestershire. I have ridden it on and off every year since but have only ever tried it the other way round once. It simply doesn’t work. To me, this route is now a classic as it is a set path.

I was lucky enough to get over to the Lickey Hills a few months ago complete with local guide. I was shown around by a new colleague at work, who ensured I got to see and try many of the good bits. From my experience, I would agree with anyone claiming this spot is typical of mountain biking in the midlands. It is “quintessential local riding”1 with lots of small but juicy bits of singletrack weaving in and out of the woods on loamy dirt that’s simply too fun to ride sensibly. A classic trail, however, it is not.

In his article ‘Classic Rides’ for issue 80 of Singletrack Magazine, the author Mr Haworth makes The Lickey’s the subject. However, the article confuses the notion of a location offering ‘classic’ riding, I.e. familiar or stereotypical, classic even, for the wider area and there being a classic ride (or route). In the article, he is referring to “commuter belt” as the ‘wider area’.


In some respects, his analysis makes sense. The trail features here are stereotypical for central England commuter belt; combining broadleaf and Fir woodland with small patches of heathland, Common and old quarries sites in a geographical and ecological, metaphorical mixer creating landscapes with familiar character traits unique to the midlands.

Broadleaf - The Lickey's look similar to this

Not blessed with many proper hills, locations such as this (other examples include Cannock Chase and the Forest of Dean) often use the elevation on offer to great effect; criss-crossing the rolling hillsides in many directions with numerous climbs and descents on offer. A pick ’n’ mix of trail sweeties. There are so many combinations that it would be impossible to ever determine a ‘right way’ to ride it all. It’s a case of ride what you fancy on any given day.

Forest of Dean - The Lickey's look a bit like this

That said, there were a few sections that I was exposed to on my visit that I would definitely want to include next time. Hang on a minute, maybe I’m on to something here…I don’t know, maybe I’m being facetious. Either way, Lickey’s was a great place to ride. Not on a par with The Gap, if I’m being honest, but scratching the itch nonetheless.

The Lickey’s have been designated a Country Park and, at over 524 acres, has plenty to offer. There is a National Trust car park near the top of the hill complete with visitors centre offering light snacks. One could, however, just as easily park in the nearby town of Barnt Green, as we did, and start there. It has a greater array of shops for post ride snacks whilst offering great access to the Lickey’s.

From Barnt Green, located to the southern end of the Lickey’s, we headed north to Cofton Hackett where we entered the country park, passing between the forestry commission gates, before immediately heading up over Bilberry Hill following some well disguised singletrack. So well disguised, we got lost. Following some brief fumbling about, we were soon on our way and, via a quick descent, we headed over towards Monument Lane.

The Lickey's look quite a bit like this

The Lickey's also look quite a bit like this.

From here, there are several downhill segments that could keep many a gravity warrior entertained for a short while. We had a few goes before carrying on; making our way down rose hill road, turning right to ascend up to the visitor centre car park before trying out a further two descents through Pinfield Wood - finishing up back at the Cofton Hackett gates we passed earlier.

The route we sampled was short but sweet, finishing off with some bridleway bashing past Hopwood reservoir. I had an enjoyable time and am already planning to return for a second bite. The Lickey’s delivered some classic, stereotypically middle English riding; my usual dinner but with different sauce.

https://www.strava.com/activities/1782564065 - here's a link to the route.

A hill through four seasons - Autumn

Bredon Hill - Autumn:

Meteorological and Gregorian Autumn rarely start at the same time. Nor does any seasonal transition for that matter. Anyway, the first few rows on the calendar, that denote the start of Autumn, can often overlap with summer’s last few days. September can often be one of the more pleasant months of the year. With it, bringing settled weather more often than not and slightly more bearable temperatures to that of June through August.


My local trails tend to bear this equilibrium in perfect riding conditions. Although generally still warm (not hot), the slightly cooler temperatures of September combined with a small amount of precipitation is enough to soften the edges of the concrete solid clay soils of the Cotswolds to form our take on Hero Dirt. This was particularly poignant after the summer we’ve just had, where the trails actually became so dry they passed concrete hard to become sand. With a sprinkling of rain, the trails are better for it; taking the edge of the dust bowl and bringing it all back together.  It’s a bit like short pastry. Not sticky. Not hard. Just perfect. As such, they provide remarkable levels of grip; grin inducing.

On Bredon Hill, this is no more pleasing than when traversing some of the more earthy sections, particularly the trails on the northern side, for example the two main descents down in to Elmley Castle - known locally as Doctor’s Wood and Two Bridges - and also the top section of the main Bredon side descent - Bredon Hill DH - all of which become proper rail-able.

Whilst it may be great riding down them during the summer - and it is simply a pleasure to get from top to bottom without being caked in cow shit for a few months - September is where they get really good.

Unfortunately, it does not last. Before long, that equilibrium is thrown out of balance as the scales tip back and the consistency of the trails become more like a bread dough. What was summer becomes, officially, Autumn. As well as the earthy trails becoming soft as s**t, there are a number of grassy sections off the top of the hill, which become sloppy after the Indian Summer has passed its best.

Down in to Ashton-Under-Hill is a particular route of note. Its topography is, well, straight down but the top starts off very green and, in the more moist conditions of mid-Autumn, it becomes something more akin to slick rock. A dab on the brakes can have you sliding the rest of way down on your arse.  Clearly, then, the trick is to leave off the brakes; the problem is it shoots you in to a technical, rocky chute and modulation of speed on entry to this is a particularly necessary requisite. The dilemma is cute slide on my arse or risk a flat. The jeopardy of the latter is generally more rewarding - assuming you don’t flat, of course.



Despite the long streak of crap up my back (a typical marker of a damp ride), I actually quite like the season. As much as I love summer, by mid September I am actually starting to look forward to riding in the mud and leaf litter. I get a strange, masochistic enjoyment from being out in the mild, even cold and damp conditions of autumn. By October, I’m actually ready to get out there and get filthy.

Autumn isn’t really about riding fast, or slow for that matter. Or worrying about whether one will come home looking like a mud pie. It’s more about the experience. The colour explosion of the early days of Autumn is something genuinely beautiful - and the mud pack will help with the complexion. The Red, Orange, Yellow and Brown tones become ever more vibrant over the early weeks as the trees react angrily to the weakening strength in the suns light and warmth. Whilst it still has some warmth, it provides a pleasant reminder of the summer past and a gentle introduction/preparation of that, which is yet to come.

This is a very short but intense period in the year and provides some great riding conditions but we are, obviously, heading inexorably towards another winter and, before long, the wet stuff will set in and that’s it for the year. It is interesting hearing the metaphor “its all downhill from here” used to described the turn towards winter. Unlike Spring, where, like the namesake, the seasons appears to ‘spring’ out from behind the cloak of winter over the course of a single day, winter is more like a black hole, slowly pulling you in to its depths with a purposeful power much like gravity. The gradual deterioration from summer to winter is seamless; to the point where you almost forget what summer felt like. Those warm, pleasant days of late September (even early October on some occasions; even November going back one year, I can recall) give way to the chill and onset of winter.

For the most part, the north side trails mentioned earlier - down in to Elmley Castle and some of the wooded sections at the top of the hill become treacherous and boggy to the point that they become un-rideable - or not worth riding at anyroot. From mid October/early November, these trails are simply not not worth the hassle. Plus, in a philanthropic sort of gesture, to maintain their integrity, it is worth avoiding so as not to damage them.

Late Autumn can be pleasant, with early morning frosts giving way to midday pleasantness. Clear blue days are still an enjoyable experience but the whole freezing and thawing thing manages to produce some kind of cake mix that is virtually un-rideable, particularly in the Cotswolds. Claggy, heavy, clay rich soils; they stick to your tyres and don’t let go. Within ten yards, I can be carrying more weight in mud than my bike actually weighs (and its no lean machine). Route choice becomes an ever increasingly painful affair with badly judged decisions having quite severe consequences on enjoyment and energy. There are times when I would advise simply avoiding the hill all together.

I know i mentioned looking forward to it but… Bredon Hill; there are times in the year, i’ll be honest, when it is simply not worth it. Unfortunately, these conditions are not confined to Bredon Hill either, the Cotswolds is synonymous for being very sticky when wet.  As such, it can become quite a chore riding locally at this time of year and the next few months. The time has come to search further afield. Time to get off down the trail centres as these are, at least, fairly reliable. Cwm Carn, I hear you calling!

A Hill through four seasons: Summer

Bredon Hill -

Some trails change very little throughout the year. Yes, the colour of the leaves may change (or not) effecting how we experience the landscape but the trail itself is can remain fairly consistent. The Twrch trail at Cwm Carn is a good example of this. The rocky terrain makes it consistent in both wet and dry conditions and the banks of, evergreen, pine forests mean the seasons have limited impact on the colour palette.

My local trails, by contrast, change with every season. With it they bring fresh challenges and enjoyments (or horror stories). It keeps things interesting and prevents monotony. The Hill? My local, Bredon Hill; located in the southwest of Worcestershire, near to the Gloucestershire border with Teweksbury to the west and Evesham to the east.  Geographically, it is part of the Cotswolds and does lie within the Cotswold AONB but it sits in isolation from the main Cotswold escarpment, accommodating only a small area in the Vale of Evesham. It is quite a punchy hill, with a spot height of 299m. As such, the climbs are steep (in places) and the descents are sweet (in places).



Bredon Hill is a well serviced hill, with a decent network of Bridleways providing plenty of route configurations. It also means there’s often something to ride in all seasons. It does not cover a particularly wide area and yet it contains a wide array of trail types from wide rocky outcrops on the southern side and more earthy trails on its northern escarpment. In between, the trails tend to be grassy and open. There’s not a whole lot of woodland but, where the trails do head under canopy, they tend to be root infested.

So, everything one needs to hone bike handling skills and something rideable all year, come snow, rain, wind or shine.

During Summer, all trails are open. Quite often one has to wait until May or even June until some of the north side trails are genuinely plausible as routes. With several streams crossing the Bridleways, sections where the topography levels off tend to get quite boggy. In fact, it all gets quite boggy so, I just keep away. Plus, gates tend to be closed during spring anyway to keep in the herds of Sheep and Cattle.

With the arrival of summer, however, the livestock tend to be moved to other pasture and the gates are opened. They remain so for much of the summer and in to Autumn. Top to bottom runs become practicable and the hill far more fun to ride down as a result. The North side is quite open, offering plenty of visibility and, as such, an opportunity to avoid (or engage in, if you’re so inclined) conflict with other trail users (I.e. time to slow down).
 
One place the livestock do get moved to is the common area up at the hill, surrounding the  tower otherwise known as Parson's Folly and the adjacent Bambury Stone. One of the advantages of such a potent hill is that the top tends to be narrow and, thus, views panoramic. I’ve wasted many an afternoon sat up here against the base of the tower watching the planes go by and mint sauce munch on the grass; looking out towards the Malvern Hill’s about 10 miles due west with the Brecon Beacons and Black mountains in greyscale beyond. It is a great view and one I never tire of. It brings to mind the many versions of the 'This Is Why' sketch in MBUK’s long running comic strip, Mint Sauce.

After a quick break, I often take the fantastic descent down in to Westmancote. Being on the Bredon (southwest) side, other than the wooded section near the top (which does deteriorate in to winter), this descent rides well all year and offers really fast, rocky and, in places, technical riding. From here, there follows a really pleasant section of trail to climb back up. 

The stony trail, cut deep in to the bedrock, passes through a wildflower meadow that really comes alive in spring and flowers all through the summer.

Thick with Poppy (red), Scabious (purple), Foxgloves and Cow Parsley lining the steep sides of the track, all set against the beautiful mellow ochre colour of the dry stone walls glowing golden in the intense sunlight, this section of trail comes alive both visually and literally. The vibrant colours of the flowers the cinematic film reel set to a soundtrack of nature remixed with the mechanical buzz of my rear hub freewheel. With bees working tirelessly collecting their payloads and the swallows finally arriving from their African adventures, the noise can be intense, whilst altogether calming and serene. It’s hard not to take a break here too quite frankly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baked Hard:

After the year we have had, resting became rather more poignant. Thankfully, there are plenty of places that provide the perfect place for a li'l ol' rest.

Sun and heat is a rare treat for Britain and, like bees at a honey pot, I was out buzzing around on my local trails much like everyone else as soon as the sun came out. Shades on, legs out.

However, 8 straight weeks of it (or however long it was) came as quite a surprise. It was not expected and actually quite wearisome in itself.

That basic instinct within all mountain bikers to get out there while its sunny and warm became a strange catch 22 as the summer wore on. The need to rest became increasingly necessary but, well, you know, it’s sunny. I’ve gotta go ride my bike in case its raining tomorrow; I’ll rest then. But it didn’t rain, for about 10 weeks.

Fields near my house started spontaneously combusting they were so dry. The trees started dropping their leaves through lack of water and our parks, fields and pastures resembled the Maasai Mara in dry season.

My local trails went through a strange evolution of initially drying out hard as concrete before blowing out to the point it felt like riding through a sand pit. Bredon Hill started to look like a big yellow dusty globe.

It sounds perverse to say this but, thankfully, there came some rain. Not much, we were spared the kind of rain that would have seen Noah running for his wood shop but it did help to pull the trails back in to check and put some green back on the trees.


The summer we've had wasn't exceptional to The Vale of Evesham;

A propensity to grey weather tends to enshrine the entire British Isles. I'm sure you've all seen it at some point or another; like yesterday, for example. Bredon Hill is only really fully open for business between the hours of Mid May to Mid September.

With strength in the sun, the ground conditions remain mitigated from the 'odd' sprinkling of rain. The south side remains fairly accessible all year round, being more rocky an all, but the north is generally more soft round the edges. More muddy and, once that strength wains, it can become a slog. Two Bridges descent and the climb from Elmley Castle both become quite laborious from Late September through to May, typically.

Riding in the summer is great, while it lasts. You can ride with profligacy, safe in the knowledge that the trails will still be open tomorrow. But, as we reach later in to season that feeling that it might be the last becomes all encompassing. I can often end up riding the same few routes repeatedly, concerned that it might be the last of the year.