It is a former railway course from Scarborough to Whitby with some of the best coastal and moorland views you could only dream about. The northwards vista over the roof tumbling Robin Hoods Bay is particular atmospheric and picturesque, you know the type, almost warranting a print run on a series of Toffee or Biscuit Tins without any of the contents actually necessary.
The name of the long distance route comes from the surface of the track in crushed coal and on today's ride after some rainfall in the preceding few days we did, within only a few minutes, resemble a bit of an anachronistic and non-politically correct musical troupe from the old saturday night BBC television schedule.
Two years between rides on the same stretch would be an interesting test for me.
I seem to remember that in 2014 I was struggling a bit on the inclines, albeit to the tolerance of railway board gradients, and I wrote on the realisation that my son was now better at cycling than I was.
Two years on and I am now 53.
In the intervening 24 months I may, or may not, have put on some additional bulk dependant on how you look at me. I accept that I do take longer to recover from a strenuous bike ride and just from the hours drive to the start of the Cinder Path I could feel a twinge and stiffness in my joints which did not bode well for the next 40 kilometres of rough terrain.
The first thing I found about the two year absence was a complete loss of any recollection of how to get onto the path from our start point at Ravenscar.
That was a matter of frustration and not a little annoyance for my son especially as we found ourselves on the wrong track, the Cleveland Way Coastal Path and after enjoying a long but bumpy downhill had to backtrack and on some parts, I will admit, get off and push.
It was with some relief that we recognised, up ahead but whilst still on the wrong track a footbridge that will have been built in the halcyon days of the Scarborough to Whitby rail line. After fighting through the undergrowth on the slope of the old embankment at the foot of said structure we at last felt our chunky tyres on the first reliable surface, albeit the grubby and all invasive cinders.
It was nice to get some forward motion and the first few miles give the impression of being downhill although negotiating natural rocks and tree roots and a haphazard infilling of potholes with bits of masonry do not permit any casual freewheeling of the legs out style.
It was a sunny Bank Holiday Monday and family groups were using the track for bonding and chatting either on foot across the full width of the path on in tight packs on two wheels, oh, and did I mention the multitude of dogs who have an even lower perception of the spatial requirements of other path users than their human owners.
I was determined to be nice today as back in 2014 I did get into a bit of a shouting match with a young mother's group whose buggy pushing contravened all rules of reasonable use. I was very courteous and patient ,,,,,on the outside.
Progress was good into and leaving Robin Hoods Bay. The path goes through the old Station Yard which was a heaving mass of vehicles seeking that precious parking space before we started on the section which would take us towards Whitby. It was uphill, again just perceptibly so in best railway engineering tradition but enough to make it hurt.
In places the cinder had washed away with run-off from the fields on the upper side making for uneven ground conditions requiring yet more concentration. Eyes scouring the path surface could not enjoy the sweeping panoramic view out to sea although I did, at my peril, take a couple of appreciative glances.
More walkers, a few dispersed cyclists and a disproportionate number of loose running and excitedly sniffing dogs speckled the way ahead. A large congregation were occupying the lofty heights of the grand red brick former railway viaduct over the River Esk which gave great roofscape views over the town with its boat-filled harbour and high above the Abbey ruins.
It was just after this point that I fell off . The saturated mud prevented any serious injury other than to my pride as I did have an audience of Ramblers at the time.
I now had a full camouflage effect from the cinder spattering and involuntary mud bath insertion and that did cause a few holidaymakers to stare as we stood outside a Whitby Tea Shop with a latte and caramel slice. Everyone else had on their best holiday clothes.
Comfort Break over we immediately hit the very steep road up to the Abbey Car Park. In 2014 I had nearly popped a blood vessel on the ascent although it had been at the very end of that years ride whereas now it was only half way. It was a bit easier for this reason only although muscle and lung straining.
There was a short stretch of cycling on a tarmac road going south from the Abbey which was a pleasure in so much as it was possible to look around at the surroundings for a change. I had not realised there were so many static caravan parks so close to the town.
We were soon back on the instability of the Cinder Path.
The reversal of former ascents into descents gave a welcome sense of speed and power but as soon as we left Robin Hoods Bay for the second time in the day and hit the bottom of the upward ride to Ravenscar I felt a weakness come over me.
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| Route profile of The Cinder Path |
The next twenty minutes were painful in both actual pain and from the agonising, crawling pace in a low gear which was all I could push in my fatigued state.
My son was now out of sight but I had told him to go ahead so that I did not hold him up too much. As in 2014 he still outrides me on every terrain.
Although slow I was at least going at my own pace. None of the cyclists that we had seen behind us or preparing to follow from their food or drink stops made it past me which must have meant that I was matching their pace.
Fortunately no walking parties overtook me either which would have been most demoralising.
I finally reached the car, my son already changed out of his cycling gear, and just sat in the rear tailgate gasping for air and taking in as much water as I could.
Back in 2014, as I seem to remember, I was no-where near as knackered but then again age catches up with all of us sooner or later. It is just a matter if we accept it gracefully or not.
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