For the last few Saturdays Mrs Fat Lad and I have been joining some other pootlers for fun and frolics on the trails of West Yorkshire. With a few rides under her belt Chip suggested us going for a steady one starting out from Ladybower. Sarah (for that’s Mrs Fat Lad’s name) was eager to give it a go and all that was left to do was organise a start location and time….
Regular readers will be not in the least bit surprised to realise that I was late to the start point. As we rolled up Phil asked if we were running on “Fat Lad” time rather than the considerably more reliable “Sarah” time. Rather than my usual sitting around doing feck all reasoning for once there was genuine justification for my tardiness:
Early out of bed and with a cup of tea in my paw I wandered into the batcave to fit Sarah’s new shiny disc brake. Sarah had very kindly lent me her wheels while mine we’re with Bikology for repair so I stripped of my tyres and rotors and started the transplant to my recently straight and true wheels. Taking the wheel out of the rear triangle I noticed I had no braking surface left on my rear disc pads. Not good for a jaunt out into the hilly and very gritty South Yorkshire peaks. Dashing inside I rang round the usual bike shop suspects finding only one shop with stock:
Fat Lad: “You’re sure that they are sintered brake pads and not the organic ones.”
Chevin Cycles: “Yep, definitely sintered. Both Avids own and Clarkes too”
Fat Lad: “Excellent I’ll be there soon”
Sarah, over hearing the conversation, kindly volunteered to go pick them up so I could carry on with the fettling. I sloped off back to the bat cave to finish giving Sarah’s steed the ability to stop.
Sarah’s bike was finished and I was fixing the third hole in my front tube as Sarah stormed from her car towards me. What she said would make a Navvy blush, but suffice to say that the fruits of her 90 minute drive to the other side of our fair and hilly city was for nothing as the only pads that Chevin cycles had in stock were organic. What. A. Shower. Of. Shite.
Loading the bikes into my ageing Ford while cramming a sandwich into my mouth we were finally ready to set off. Trying to make up time I hammered my 15 year old diesel box southwards on the motorway. I reckon by the time I got to our eventual destination the engine was probably pink…..
At Lady Bower Inn I scanned the car park looking for a fellow blogger who was to be joining us but there was no sign of the munky. I pulled out the bikes from the muddy and cavernous boot while Sarah suited up. Rolling my eyes I swore loudly as yet another puncture had manifested between Casa Fat Lad and Ladybower. Phil being the gent and all round fella he is stepped up and helped me out speeding up the process considerably. All ready we sailed down the road and we were finally on our way.
Pootling away with us on this unseasonly warm afternoon was in order of good looks: Chip and Amanda, Mick and Carol, Julie and Mark, and Phil. Despite the volume of traffic we crossed the road and slipped across the dam walkway following the reservoir shore. Scant moments of pedalling later and I’m off the bike again to fix another feckin puncture! Chip took the steadier ones on as Phil and I worked our magic replacing the leaky rubber.
During the week my mechanic and I had been trying to solve “The Mystery of The Wobbly Drive Side Crank”. Sadly the butler hadn’t done it it was down to, actually, I don’t know but and awful lot of thread lock and torque has seemed to cure it. The chain line was now out completely and I could only get halfway up the cassette making pedalling interesting. Phil rolled away as I struggled on with all my easy gears not playing fair. I turned the corner catching up with the girls onto the first little climb of the day and powered up out of the saddle (not my usual method, I’m a sit and spin kind of guy). Julie and Sarah attacked the climb as hard as they could and joined us just as Phil and Mick were having a go at the first uphill section of the Beast. As the guys scream back down I flip my bike over for some drive train TLC.
Sarah had been chatting with me as I fettled and Chip corralled the rest down the trail. I let Sarah go before Phil and I soon she screamed down the rocky descent with the confidence of a woman who has been riding for years not weeks. That or a woman who is genuinely nuts, she is marrying me after all. At the end of the rocky grinfest Phil hit a pocket of mud trying to steal my line (sorry in-joke) and tangled himself up in an hybrid origami of metal, skin and bone. Back up and okay the damage amounted to a bent brake lever and it’s opposite number popping in and out of the master cylinder on a whim.
We pootled on and I glanced over at my better half to try to guage her enjoyment of the day so far. Pedalling and mind-reading I can’t perform simultaneously and so I squeezed her gloved hand smiling as we rode on. Soon enough it was time to ascend some more and the climb that faced us was evil and rocky. Or maybe it was rocky and evil. I don’t remember entirely but there was rocks and it was evil. Soon enough everyone was parralel to thier top tube pushing up the long and torturous challenge. That is, everyone but Phil. He was firing up, eating the vertical feet pushing the cranks hard the shouts of encouragement folowing him to the summit.
At the top a brief breather was called and it was time to mount up again heading for Hagg Farm. Again everyone had a good go at the incline climbing into the clouds people battling with their own personal daemons. Riders dismounted at their own preference of burning thighs and the strung out pack recondensed at the bottom of the first switchback. Phil attacked first getting to the wide gate holding it open for the rest of the challengers. I watched a few with various degrees of success and crunching it into the granny gear it was my turn. Line choice and a little bit of power later and I was through the gate. We waited as a different group descended at speed holding the gate for them to enjoy the full run.
We carried on towards the heavens pushing and riding in equal measure while Sarah and Amanda chatted away at the rear of the pack. As I crested the hill I dashed over to one side got on my belly and took some shots of people reaching the highest point of the day.
With another breather under our belts we started the grin-infecting drop towards the cafe, one final minor climb conquered with momentum. We let the girls get a head start, letting them ride the challenging terrain and inclines at their own pace without pressure. I fired down the descent lamenting the lack of a reasonable working brake and despite riding with an unusual amount of ease and flow I only caught the girls at a rock step/drop talking about the best line. I cut through enjoying my rare good form.
It’s with great pride that I realise that is the only thing Sarah has not managed to ride down all day. Considering the terrain, thats pretty damned impressive. I pulled to one side to get a splash shot and it was time to roll the rest of the descent to the tarmac limbs pumped and buzzing all the way.
We stopped at the cafe taking on board well earned tea and cakes all round. Feeding the ducks crumbs and sitting stillfor ten minutes was soon taking it’s toll with the group getting cold in unison.
Soon after we were rolling again and as we climbed out back to the reservoir side I could see Sarah was flagging now. We pootled on taking it nice and steady exchanging pleasantries with the throngs of red socks out enjoying the sunshine too. A short while later and we took a left turn up a short sharp shock of tarmac. I beamed a grin across to Sarah and told her how proud of her I was. It wasn’t empty praise either. It’s bloody hard round there, pootle or race pace the hills still go in the same direction. With a little more off road climbing we on the last descent of the day, a short rocky switchback back to the pub. It was tight and technical and as I look round my love was riding it with a look of fierce concentration and joy. “I thought I couldn’t do it, so I just followed yours and Carol’s line and I was fine”
With the afternoon drawing on there was time for a well earned pint a long drive home.
Fat Lad
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