Sunday mornings should be about sleeping in, the morning papers and hangovers. Instead the 6:55am alarm wakes me from inappropriate dreams of Kylie.
With fading memories of everyones favourite antipodean pop princess fading I got into Andy’s van and we made our way to the Newmiller Dam starting point.
Getting there on time (somebody else driving you see…) there was already a fair group getting ready to go. Out to play this morning included Chip, Mick, Carol, Bob, Steve, Andy and Myself. With Everybody suited and booted we were off, straight into what feels like a 1 in 2 climb up to the woods surrounding the lake. At the top it was up and down through the singletrack and over the roots. Carol set the tone of the day after a damp tyre/slippy root interaction pushed her over onto her side before she could get unclipped.
With only ten minutes gone it was time for a break. Quite literally. Andy’s carbon fibre seat post decided to crack. Andy lowered the seat post into the frame and off we went.
It was time for a first for me. When I do the Newmiller ride with the Thursday guys I have to cut out a piece of single track a couple of miles in. I do this to save my legs and so everybody doesn’t get too pissed off waiting for me. So it was big grin time when I had chance to ride it. If I’d decided to miss it I would have missed Carol’s Indiana jones trick!
Taking a right turn round a tree on the singletrack Carol started to fall, like a shot she threw out her arm, hooked it round the trunk and using her momentum sling shotted herself upright. I swear you couldn’t make this shit up.
From there we got out on to the small moor section and back into what I think is the best piece of singletrack in Wakefield. It swoops, it turns, it flows, it just feckin rocks. Ahem. Just wipe myself down and carry on.
We pedalled on hitting the dismantled railway Andy’s seatpost getting shorter all the time, turn his fine steed into something resembling more and more like a 8 year old’s bike.
Remaining highlights of the ride included: Puncture in my front wheel. The nightmare of gorse up by Heath common and the delight of everybody descending the first climb of the day.
By the time we rolled back into the car park the GPS reckoned we had done 23 miles. I don’t know how long it is since I’ve done a ride that long but I reckon it must be five years plus. I had an absolute blast of a time, but I think my legs hate me now.
Fat Lad
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