Distance : 13.67 Miles / 22 Kms
Bike Type : MTB
Difficulty : Challenging
https://connect.garmin.com/modern/course/57820466
The wind had settled down since the previous day and rolling out at 10am, we were set to beat the rain that was expected to arrive by 3pm. Gavin, Andy and I had found a grassy parking area in the centre of the tiny Northumbrian village of Alwinton. Meaning settlement next to the River Alwin, the village comprises a pretty collection of houses, a farm and a pub, all sitting amongst the beautiful rolling hills and tranquil waters of Upper Coquetdale.
Although it was certainly fresh, we were bathed with bright sunshine as we set off along the lane, heading upvalley, deeper into the Cheviot Hills. As soon as we had left the village the road began to rise on a long steady climb, which would not have been too challenging, had it not been for the brutal North-Westerly headwind. I was already feeling spent and anxious about the miles ahead by the time we reached a gate on our right, leading onto a rising bridleway towards Shillmoor.
As I paused at the gate and turned to await my amigos, I was rewarded with a great perspective of Alwinton and its situation within the broadening valley. Green fields and pockets of woodland surrounded the village on all sides and the River Coquet snaked its way across the landscape and out of sight, on its long journey to the sea at Amble.
The bridleway traversed across the steep grassland slopes of our first hill, climbing steadily as it went. Through one gate, then another, as it climbed onto the broad plateau on a track called Pass Peth. As I rested at a marker post I noticed that we had already accomplished 500 feet of climbing within a mile and a half…no wonder I had felt a little out of breath! I relayed this to Andy and he too was relieved to have a reason for his fatigue.
I had ridden this route before, and I knew what came next, though last time it had caused me a lot more pain than it would today as I was travelling in the opposite direction. Reaching the edge of this upland pasture, the path disappeared ahead. Like kids at the top of a waterslide, we hesitated for a moment, before taking the plunge into a sharp and steep descent over wet grass, back to the valley floor. Too heavy on the brakes and an uncontrollable slide could make for an ungracious and painful dismount. We regrouped at the gate below, smiling and intact.
After ¾ mile of path across the foot of a hill, commonly referred to as The Knocks, we arrived at Shillmoor, a hamlet at the confluence of the Usway Burn and the River Coquet. This pretty spot is popular for walkers to park and head out into the hills.
Climbing round behind the farm the route followed a gravelled road up the Usway Burn to Batailshiel Haugh. The road crosses the Usway Burn a couple of times on the way, via fantastic metal girder bridges with planked decks. Just beyond the first bridge we found a used smoke grenade canister…The army conduct exercises in these hills and valleys, and, of course, the Ministry of Defence Otterburn Ranges lie within a mile or two to the South and South-West. Ps. Remember not to touch any army ordnance…an explosion which injures or kills you is enough of a deterrent I would have thought!
The path continues beyond Batailshiel Haugh, following the burn for another mile or so until it squeezes between water and woodland. The burn rushes in its channel cut into the rocks, frothing and gurgling into pools, lifting and depositing boughs, branches and leaf litter as it goes.
Before long we arrived at the ride’s dining location. Fairhaugh House is an 18th century farmhouse and probably the most remote holiday home in the UK. This solitary property sleeps 8 and the website shows a high quality finish inside, although the shutters were closed and no one was at home when we passed. We rested in a leeward and sunlit corner of the building and investigated an old piece of farm machinery sitting in the shade of an oak tree. I ate my sole provision…a surprisingly good 27p flapjack from Home Bargains!
After “lunch” we pressed on. Within a short distance upstream of the house, a wooden bridge passed over the burn in a pretty little setting. We crossed and faced 150 metres of stiff climbing to bring us up to a fantastic viewpoint, and the top of a nice descent on a track of gravel and grass.
The skies had been looking a little ominous for the last few minutes and, sure enough, as we approached a gate at the base of the hill, the heavens opened with hail and snow driven on by an icy wind. Still, it’s better than rain, and we had both the equipment and the inclines to keep us warm.
Now doubling back on the opposite bank of the Usway Burn, the stiffest test yet awaited us. This long climb on a grass path tested me to the limit. Two ramps awaited. I crept up the first, in control of bike and breathing, but the second put me deep into the red, weaving and wheelying up a crazy gradient for what seemed like an age, before it levelled off gradually. I think I averaged 4mph up there but I made it without a stop. I am a man of simple pleasures it seems.
We reconvened at a gate, spending time to recover as the inclement weather abated and we enjoyed some relief from the wind in the shelter of pine trees.
We were soon onto forest road and rolling along at a pace that we could only have dreamt of a few miles back. We noted that we had taken two and three-quarter hours to cover 8 miles. Admittedly, this included many breaks to admire the scenery, recover and chatter, and much of these miles had been climbing into a headwind.
We looked forward to an easier ride from here back to the car. And, indeed, that turned out to be the case. We sailed along gently undulating forest track for two miles, tackling only one cheeky climb up to a log stack as the path joined Clennel Street. With 360 degree views, we could see rain showers sweeping over distant hills and clouds casting great shadows on a landscape layered in shades of greens, browns and reds.
As we began our descent on Clennel Street we looked back to beautiful views of Cheviot, blanketed in snow. Clennel Street is an ancient trading route, dating back to the iron and bronze age. Although the name Clennel Street is more recent and relates to a major local family, its early name is magnam viam de Ernespeth, derived from the Old English for Eagles Path.
We sailed down the wide grass track, gliding over the rocks peeking out from beneath their damp green blanket. Winding down the hillside we were still mindful to feather the brakes to hold control on slippery corners. A couple of gates proved only a temporary hiatus on the flight into Alwinton.
A rocky lane guided us past a farm and into the village, alighting by the parked cars. The Rose and Thistle beckoned for a pint and a sandwich. For the first time since covid 19 lockdown we sat in a beer garden and spoke of our adventure. We had, on the whole, beaten the weather, but heavy clouds were starting to come in around us as we made our weary way back to the car.
The Cheviots are a mountain bikers playground. The ascents may be steep and challenging, but the trails are rolling and the descents are fast and flowing. Coupling the trails with amazing views of awesome scenery and you have a winning ride, 100%.