Singletrack

Mmmm Guinness.
We didn’t bother concealing our mirth and it was a while
before we fished him out to lick his wounds and remove the
prickles from his damaged hand.
Carrying gingerly on we reached the top of the Granite
Trail, another quarry access where bogey rails once carried
the quartz-rich stone directly down to the harbour below.
Up the hill, another quarry, more spectacular views, and
an impromptu photo shoot on the dusty drop from the
viewpoint plinth filled the next half hour before the promise
of the next trail grew irresistible and we spurted back into
the trees. Yet another picture-perfect line of crafted drops,
gravelly corners and pine needle goodness preceded the
draggy ascent to Drinnahilly, the obvious peak topped by the
telecommunications mast. From here, numerous lines convene
near the Shepherd’s Cottage where a stream-hugging delight
of a singletrack led us ultimately back to the outskirts of town.
We spun gently up the alarmingly steep road climb back
over the cross of the eight, conserving energy for the return
through Tollymore Forest. Slightly weary, but homeward
bound, we’d saved enough in the tank to attack the sharp drop
to the river and the twisting bank-edge cross-country loop to
Ivy Bridge. From here, route choice is largely irrelevant and
it was the possibility of some arty bluebell pics that saw us
ascending again, more than strictly necessary, before dropping
back to the water at Parnell’s Bridge. All continuing routes
here ultimately lead back up-valley and with light fading and
the pinch of skipped meals becoming increasingly insistent
we cut up to the main road past the striking architecture of
Tollymore National Outdoor Centre before a quick blast back
to the start.
It’s often hard to truly appreciate what you’ve got on your
doorstep. An enforced layoff and the fondness of absence are
‘First person to spot the sea wins!’
a powerful combination and, despite the obvious stupidity of
this folly, neither Eddie nor I had any regrets. This ride was
an ill-advised cracker that we not only survived, we massively
enjoyed – thanks to world-class trails and amazing company.
As an added bonus, the next morning I had about 10° more
movement in my shoulder – a few more of these and that op
will be cancelled!
Why Bother?
The Mourne Mountains and surrounding forests are a
mountain biking paradise. Within less than half an hour of
Newcastle are several well-developed areas, full of semi-natural
flowing singletrack, as well as two really enjoyable trail centres
at Castlewellan and Rostrevor. This ride is a great combination
of open hillside and glorious woodland, but even within
this there are tons of variations and with a modicum of map
ability and a small sense of adventure you’ll discover a neverending
array of intertwined tracks.
Unlike some regions, you’re never far from assistance, and
although the serenity will make you feel miles from anywhere,
there is none of the associated danger of proper wilderness.
Trails are generally quiet and the local riders are extremely
friendly. While there isn’t a pile of big mountain riding, there
is a constant and spectacular backdrop to the miles of forest
trails and more than enough to create a great trip in a new
location.
Newcastle is a tourist town with all accommodation
options from hostel to posh hotel and a broad range of eating
and drinking choices. There’s plenty to do if you want to bring
the family and the Mournes are a great spot for a range of
other outdoor activities. Of course, the Guinness tastes better
and the craic is endless to be sure…
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