Distance : 19.54 Miles / 31.45 Kms
Bike Type : MTB
Grade : Moderate
https://connect.garmin.com/modern/course/57675944
The UK certainly has its fair share of variable weather. It has been warm and dry for the last few weeks, and the trails have been firm and fast-flowing. The rain, however, has returned and I would imagine it won’t be long before we’re ploughing our bikes through thick mud and negotiating slippery roots again. The variety, however, keeps your skills honed and your interest levels up.
Rothbury really feels like it is the heart of the Northumberland countryside, positioned on the side of a hill with the River Coquet running past on its way to the sea from deep in the Cheviot Hills. It was damp after the recent showers, but not raining, when Gavin, Andy and I set off from the Haugh car park.
First task, to scale Whitton Bank Road as it ramps up from the valley floor. It is not a particularly long climb, but it is a baptism of fire, priming your legs for the ride ahead. Left at the top, up again, but on an easier incline on Carterside Road, and then soon taking a right onto the gravelly Hillhead Road.
By the time we were passing Sharp’s Folly the road was levelling out for a brief distance so that we could catch our breath. The folly was built by the Reverend Dr Thomas Sharp, son of the Archbishop of York, in the 1720’s. Dr Sharp became Archdeacon of Northumberland, Prebendary of Durham and Rector of Rothbury, and he had the tower built as an observatory and to create employment for the local population. It is said that you can see the sea from the top, approximately 30 feet up. His Rectory was Whitton Tower, a 14th century pele tower which stands at the top of Whitton Bank Road. The building is hidden behind the trees, sitting above the junction you struggled to reach a few moments ago.
Further up the track, behind Whitton Hillhead, the route brought us through a gate, out onto lush green fields. A row of hawthorn trees, neatly box cut, ran away from us down a field boundary and out of sight. Thropton and Snitter sat below us in the valley, and Simonside overlooked them both from its lofty perch ahead of us.
Sheep watched us warily, standing over their lambs as we skirted their field. A short path through trees on the far side of the field gave my tires their first taste of mud this year. It felt good to slice through the dirt again but I also knew it would mean more physical effort awaited.
Crossing a road, we pedalled in amongst the tall pines of Simonside, following a firm path up to meet the forest road. The next mile was a steady forest road climb, up to a fantastic viewpoint, just below Simonside Cairn. Patches of sunlight lit up distant hillsides as it broke through heavy layers of cloud cover. A blanket of haze draped itself over the hills and fields in the middle distance, smothering the sharpness of detail, reducing patches of woodland to dark blemishes on the landscape. Northumberland holds such a beautiful wilderness…exposed, weather beaten and often challenging, but always so appealing.
Turning our back on the view, we rode beyond Simonside Cairn to our left, and into the great expanse of Harwood Forest. The Simonside skyline seems to be omnipresent in Northumberland. This iconic ridge with its Western crag and steeply sloping foot can be seen from afar in all directions, giving a handy reference point to a navigator.
Large areas of Harwood Forest have been farmed within recent years, so we had a little more to see than simply pine at close quarters. Deep into the forest, 5 miles from the nearest road, lies Chartners. Chartners is a small farmhouse, now housing an independent hostel. A wind turbine and solar panels supply electricity and a wood burner provides heating…handy considering the location. We climbed past the remote hostel into a hail storm.
Hail is better than rain, providing we’re not talking golf balls here. As with most hail showers, it didn’t last long, and soon it left us behind to assault folk with its frozen projectiles elsewhere. We pedalled up to a gate that would signal our departure from the forest and the beginning of a long rocky descent through moorland heather, back into the Coquet valley.
We had planned to have lunch at this juncture, but Gavin suggested a shepherds hut further down the slope that would provide good shelter from the elements whilst we refueled. It was, indeed, a good plan. The hut was clean, with seating, and sheltered us from the wind, but most importantly, it was open.
With food taken onboard, we rode on, descending the rocky bridleway. Boulders the size of watermelons helped focus the mind but a drainage ditch towards the bottom caught me off guard and nearly threw me from the saddle. Suspension compensated for my lack of ability and awareness yet again!
Descending across a grassy field we joined a road which would take us past the attractive house at Hepple Whitefield. A couple of sleeping policemen on this road made for more controlled attempts at gaining air…certainly more within my skill set anyway.
At the hamlet of Bickerton, a little further down the lane, a bridleway took us across fields to the fishing and nature reserve at Caistron Lakes. Earlier in the year the River Coquet had split into two here during floods, and now one half of the river runs through the lake system. Although this had been expected to occur at some point by the environment agency, temporary measures of closing public paths had been introduced. Thankfully, all paths had been reopened, so we were able to ride alongside the lakes without the need for waders.
A field of cows with calves presented our next challenge, just beyond Caistron lakes. Having negotiated such obstacles many times before, we have learned to pass as widely, steadily and quietly as possible. Trying to emulate a stealthy group of army commandos, each with an eye on any untoward bovine movements, we made it across the field of death. Had we been chased, I’m not sure how well we would have stayed together….the Pamplona Bull Run springs to mind!
Up the lane beyond Ryehill, we pushed across footpaths to the footbridge at Thropton and remounted in the village for an ascent past the Cross Keys Pub. For some reason I always find this short climb tough. Hey-ho!
Just after the pub we joined Physic Lane, climbing up to meet the Carriage Drive on the Cragside Estate. Initially tarmac, Physic Lane soon becomes a grassy lane, rising between gorse and stone wall up the edge of the fields. It is all very rideable if your lungs and legs will allow. It is a long old slog, but quite satisfying on reaching the dilapidated gate at the top. More cattle to pass, but they didn’t mind us, as we passed almost within touching distance. They simply stared, bemused, and let us go on our way.
Cragside Estate’s Carriage Drive is well known and well used, and for good reason. It is a clear path with a decent surface and has excellent views over the Coquet Valley and Rothbury. We spun along, happy in the knowledge that the days climbing was behind us…almost.
Two short sharp sections of uphill awaited. The first, climbing onto Addyheugh, is steeper, but set in attractive woodland, which allowed me to be distracted by the surrounding scenery. It was such a temporary toil anyway, and the views over Rothbury from the top were worth every aching pedal stroke. When you visit, take a moment to read the names and dates carved into the sandstone from years gone by. The second was a rise similar to the first, but shorter and easier. I’m sure I’m overstating the difficulty of these “bumps”. The smallest hills, however, are a trial for tired legs.
Once over these “climbs”, it was time to enjoy the long descent into Rothbury. Wide metalled paths gave way to narrow rooted tracks, dodging between rhododendron, before a boulder strewn drop through trees, alighting onto Hillside Road.
By now, the only thing on our minds was the mouthwatering delicacy of a Bombay sausage roll from Rothbury Butchers. If you haven’t tried one, you really must. They never fail to satisfy.
Whilst we trundled along the residential roads of the town we reflected on our luck with the weather….damp under tire but the skies had mostly held their aquatic stores for another time.
After a quick stop in the pretty town centre to pay homage to a sumptuous savoury snack, we made our way back to the car park. A lady with her daughters asked whether there was any good cycling around here. “Plenty”” was our reply…”as long as you don’t mind a few hills”. Her expression told me she might…