For the last couple of weekends life has dictated that I couldn’t take NuNu out in the daylight so when the first chance arrived I leapt on it. It turns out my bike has got this black and white colour scheme going on…. Speaking to Pete on the Saturday evening he was on his way out for a skin full so we both decided that a nine rather than eight kick off was for the best.
At the chippy Pete and I met up with Donny Dave and Andy. Not the Andy Andy, nor the other Andy from the forum, this Andy. Glad we cleared that up, otherwise it might have got confusing…
All ready top go we flew down the road and I was beginning to doubt the wisdom of my short sleeved base layer. Onto the field and the ground was very hard turning the mud into a hard packed broken rumble all the way to the bridge over the stream. Most of the trails where I live can at best be described as “Cheeky†so sometimes interaction with other trail users can be errm entertaining, however in a display of cosmic imbalance and destruction of casual stereotypes both dog walkers we passed were pleasant and cheery in equal measure.
Onwards and quite literally upwards we made our way up the snickett all climbing well until I hit a frozen puddle and it spat me of my line and into the bushes. Ah well at least it wasn’t its usual boggy mess. Again at the top more dog walkers stepped by to let us past being pleasant with it too. Skipping the climb and descent after the gate we made our way past the Howley ruins and in following the track down Pete managed to stay on where he’d sailed over the handlebars in an earlier ride. I followed the guys up and down a section I usually skip and coast down the rocky side I normally hesitate at.
Splashing across the stream we rolled on to the next climb setting the world to rights as we went. This particular section is a rarity for me as I think it makes a better climb than it does a descent. I made my way up steadily stopped only by the deep mud feet away from the top. Trying to peer through the mist clouding Birstall/Batley my hipflask of Big Al’s Special Hill Medicine made the rounds as we all had a breather.
Chests burning we walked the rest of Birkby Brow woods as the clay shooting gents were in residence, once more with utter bewilderment we had nothing but smiles and cheery “Morningâ€s from every one we passed. Out of the woods and onto Nab Lane we pedalled our way from the steep tarmac into Knife Edge. Who knows what I have done to appease the Trail Gods but I sailed through this off camber mud-fest with no problems in evidence. No doubt I have some serious Trail Karma to pay back…
All that remained to be conquered was the delight. It was hard going and possibly the only place on the ride where the mud hadn’t frozen over. It was a granny spin for me all the way to the top dragging the Kona through some really sapping sections but I made it and the second dose of Big Al’s Special Hill Medicine was administered to those in need of attention.
Over the motorway bridge and across Drig moor we weaved our way through the Horse and Trap meet in progress. Though the sun had shone for most of the way round the fog had closed in by now making the air chilly, depositing moisture in my goatee.
With Brownhills descend and climbed we made our way to the main road via the back alleys of Gildersome and I left the guys homeward bound.
After rinsing the bike down I jumped in the shower to do the same and reminisced on the already fleeting memories of the trail. There’s been a great deal going on in the pedalling world of Fat Lad that has made me wonder why I bother. This ride, those moments, those trails, that is why.
Fat Lad
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