You may or may not have noticed me whining and pouting on this very site yesterday. Despite my near teenage levels of sulking I did manage to get out the bike and drag it round our local trails. There’s nothing quite like turning a £2000 bike into a mud fuelled drive train shredding parts grinder. Hitting the climb from the wrist destroying field you have to know the “just so” way of conquering it. In the summer approach with as much velocity as you can from the initial speed sapping incline and stamp on the cranks to finish off the last few feet to the crest. Winter same approach but sit your ass down for the brutal up as the leaf cover or the slimy undertrail will spit you out wheels losing the traction battle of physics. Last night I committed early, three quarters up the not all that long rise and the front wheel began to lift. Then me with it. The backwards cartwheel I performed in front of the other 5 pootle crew I’m told was spectacular; bringing back early November Catherine Wheel memories but with HID lighting rather than gunpowder. Ian behind me said he would be leaving a gap because he wanted to see what other stunts I’d be performing that evening.
Heading out for the rest of the Res Raid Classic the ride was falling to pieces with chain suck and punctures a plenty but the banter and humour saw us all through. If you’ve been coming to this chunky corner of the internet for a while now you might know of my nemesis. Those bloody church steps:
Rolling through the Autumnal eery floodlit church path, graveyard silent under the cold clear skies someone behind asked if tonight was the night. It was too late I’d already rolled them. I “yee ha”-ed* and then cranked on to the top of the next slime battle climb. I remember approaching the bollards thinking “I need to make up for earlier; Trail Karma demands it…” At the top the Hill medicine went round the group alcohol falsely comforting us against the chilly dark night. The warm feeling radiating through my chest had to fight for synaptic attention, the endorphins rushing through the trail nemesis slain behind me.
Fat Lad
* Terribly un-British I know but what can I say the moment overwhelmed me.
PS Cheers guys for the comments yesterday it really picked me up – Al
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