Mikefule
May 7th 06, 10:15 PM
Well, wasn't the weather beautiful yesterday, when I couldn't go out
because I had to get ready for a wedding - thankfully not my own? So
today, I was finally free to go for a ride. It was about 2:30 p.m.
On the way up the main road towards the forest, the light drizzle
develops into heavy rain. I chuckle merrily as I realise that my
waterproof top is hanging from the curtain rail at home. The sky is
dark, very dark...
And I arrive at the car park to see a big sign saying, Prem1er Mountian
Bike Race - access to forest tracks limited. A frown darkens my brow,
marring my puckish good looks for a moment.
I get out of the car to find the rain has slowed to a downpour. I kit
up quickly, then mount and set off across the car park, through the
seating area outside the café... and I see red and white tape blocking
my way. I take a detour across the grass, and reach the main section
of "yeller brick" which is also taped off. I turn every which way, but
I am stymied, trapped, bound up in red and white tape. The only
difference between this and my job is the words "and white".
I return to the car park, and follow arrows which say, "Cycle route".
These point along a dead straight, wide, uninteresting road through the
forest. However, after a little while, I find that I have climbed a
short distance and the land falls away to my right and rises to my
left. There are pine trees on each side. It's quite scenic in a
slope-with-pine-trees sort of way. Then there is a clearing, and the
track becomes a single rut, just wide enough to ride with
concentration.
After this, the track widens and there is a long and tricky climb, with
patches of sand and areas of gravel. My strategy is to avoid the worst
of each, concentrating on the climb as a whole, but this takes
considerable planning as I have to decide when to change direction,
when to cross to the other side of the track, when to risk a short
section of deep gravel. When I make it to the top, it is with a
considerable sense of achievement.
I carry on in a more or less straight line for a mile or more, back on
a wide track, then I turn to the right. It is still raining, but I am
pleasantly warm, not too out of breath, and the new open face helmet is
less of a prison than the full-facer I've worn for the last couple of
MUni rides.
Left onto more yeller brick, and soon I am at the gate where I used to
park the car until the day someone broke into it. Here, I dismount.
I've probably done a couple of miles so far and this my first stop. I
remount and ride the hundred metres or so to the next gate, where there
is a white van parked. The family gathered around it issues theatrical
but good-natured gasps of amazement as I ride past. The young lad
sounds genuinely impressed.
This puts pressure on me as the next stage of the ride is a long and
uneven climb up a forest road. It's dead straight, and I will be in
view for a long time. I get my head down and go for it. Sooner than
expected, I am at the top and making the slightly tricky little climb
up a muddy slope beneath beech trees. Then I cruise beneath and
between the trees, the path not entirely clear. I try to avoid the
deepest patches of mud and fallen leaves, and in doing so, I manage to
pedal-strike a tree stump, for the first UPD of the day.
Next, a long and challenging ride, generally level or slightly down
hill, beneath beech and chestnut trees. The track is wide enough for a
Land Rover, and is rutted, and the surface has been ground into a black
slimy paste of mud, water, leaves, beech masts and chestnut cases. I
am keenly aware that a faceplant in this would be inadvisable and
unpleasant.
At intervals across the path, there are logs. Most of these are only
an inch or two in diameter, but some are rather thicker. I experiment
with riding over these, sort of half-hopping and whole-grunting, and
occasionally applying traumatic percussion to those parts of me nearest
to the seat. I do better than I would have on the old Pashley, but I
think Kris Holm can relax for a little while yet before my video comes
out (Not Just One Tyred Guy - One Totally Knackered Guy). Of course
the amusing play on words is less effective with the English spelling.
I do UPD a couple of times. Once is on the biggest log I've attempted.
I count it as a moral victory because both the unicycle and I land on
the far side of the log, so at least we crossed it! Once is on the
simplest little mud slope, which I have to try four times before I
manage it.
Next, the long slimy climb where I always fall off. The track is
deeply rutted, the ground is wet and muddy, the obstacles are concealed
by layers of fallen leaves, and all about there are logs (cunningly
disguised as alligators) waiting to leap out and ensnare my wheel.
Well, for the first time ever, I make it to the top without a UPD, and
I cruise easily down the sand and gravel path on the other side of the
hill.
Ahead of me, I see more red and white tape, and realise that I am
straying back onto the territory of the mountainbikers. I see a few go
past - high gear, low cadence, low speed, glumly gritted teeth. If
that's racing then, oh, something else that isn't true either. I've
done a lot of bicycling over the years, and I recognise dispirited and
fatigued incompetence when I see it.
I duck under the tape, toy briefly with the idea of following my usual
route, then decide to be a good boy and keep out of the racers' way. I
am rewarded with a previously unknown single track that snakes up a
hill through the forest and pops me out opposite the downhill course.
This is neither more nor less difficult than any other narrow track
through the forest, but there are a few earthworks where those with
sufficient kinetic energy might indulge themselves ballistically. I
content myself with flowing over the obstacles, splashing through the
mud, and grinning like a loon.
Then there is a tricky uphill, and at the top, two young lads on
mountain bikes. As I approach, I expect comments, but they
respectfully pull their bikes out of the way. I thank them and ride
through. The next section I know well, and it's a nasty one: deep
hollows across the path, all full of muddy water. Each is a potential
wheel trap and a sudden UPD waiting to happen. I hear the two lads
following me, and bark an urgent warning for them to hang back in case
I fall off and they run into me. One apologises, and I hear them back
off.
One starts shouting to an unseeen friend, "Wait, wait, wait at the
bottom of the hill, wait, you've got to see this, there's something I
want you to see, wait, you've gotta see this man on this, wait..." etc.
He sounds genuinely excited.
Meanwhile the pressure's on me not to UPD, and I grit my teeth and
concentrate, and take special care not to relax after the last of the
puddles. I swoop down the steep muddy slope and emerge onto the main
track next to a dumbfounded youth, dutifully waiting as instructed by
his vociferous friend.
I ride on, down to the BMX earthworks, and ride over each, taking more
adventurous lines than usual, then ride back out to be greeted by the
three lads. One of them asks me a question and I stop and we chat for
a bit. They sound enthusiastic. Nice kids - and their faces are
muddied like kids' faces should be. They've probably been riding
tricker routes than the adults in the mountainbike race - although, to
be fair, not as far.
Almost back to the car now, but I have to pick my route carefully to
avoid the race, and this sometimes means sneaking past marshalls as
inconspicuously as I can manage on a unicycle. One marshall, sitting
smugly in a LWB Land Rover looks like he won't let me on his section of
course, so I divert down a side track that I recognise, then turn down
a steep slope where there are two gravelly wheel ruts. It is still
raining, and water is flowing down the ruts, and it splashes up from my
tyre, soaking my legs and backside.
I cross the next main track, and then I'm on slimy mud again. Down the
hill, turn right, and on to what looks like the past proper climb of
the day: not too steep, but very wet, very muddy, very... my oh my...
I think I've invented the power slide! The uni goes one way, I go the
other, and I land flat footed and almost upright, but with considerable
forward momentum. My cycling shoes have flat soles with virtually no
grip, and the mud is like buttered Teflon. I find myself skiing for a
few seconds, arms windmilling, until I settle gracelessly onto my
backside in the deepest bit of mud I can find.
All I can do is laugh. So I do that.
Back up on the uni, then up the hill, and find my way past the cycle
race, and the advertsiing banners, and the tents selling go-faster
stuff, and at last I am back at the car.
I drive home in brightening sunshine, my backside slightly chilly
against the black rubber mat from the footwell that I've had to use to
protect the driver's seat.
--
Mikefule
Let every man so *p*itch his song
To help his neighbour sing along
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mikefule's Profile: http://www.unicyclist.com/profile/879
View this thread: http://www.unicyclist.com/thread/49243
because I had to get ready for a wedding - thankfully not my own? So
today, I was finally free to go for a ride. It was about 2:30 p.m.
On the way up the main road towards the forest, the light drizzle
develops into heavy rain. I chuckle merrily as I realise that my
waterproof top is hanging from the curtain rail at home. The sky is
dark, very dark...
And I arrive at the car park to see a big sign saying, Prem1er Mountian
Bike Race - access to forest tracks limited. A frown darkens my brow,
marring my puckish good looks for a moment.
I get out of the car to find the rain has slowed to a downpour. I kit
up quickly, then mount and set off across the car park, through the
seating area outside the café... and I see red and white tape blocking
my way. I take a detour across the grass, and reach the main section
of "yeller brick" which is also taped off. I turn every which way, but
I am stymied, trapped, bound up in red and white tape. The only
difference between this and my job is the words "and white".
I return to the car park, and follow arrows which say, "Cycle route".
These point along a dead straight, wide, uninteresting road through the
forest. However, after a little while, I find that I have climbed a
short distance and the land falls away to my right and rises to my
left. There are pine trees on each side. It's quite scenic in a
slope-with-pine-trees sort of way. Then there is a clearing, and the
track becomes a single rut, just wide enough to ride with
concentration.
After this, the track widens and there is a long and tricky climb, with
patches of sand and areas of gravel. My strategy is to avoid the worst
of each, concentrating on the climb as a whole, but this takes
considerable planning as I have to decide when to change direction,
when to cross to the other side of the track, when to risk a short
section of deep gravel. When I make it to the top, it is with a
considerable sense of achievement.
I carry on in a more or less straight line for a mile or more, back on
a wide track, then I turn to the right. It is still raining, but I am
pleasantly warm, not too out of breath, and the new open face helmet is
less of a prison than the full-facer I've worn for the last couple of
MUni rides.
Left onto more yeller brick, and soon I am at the gate where I used to
park the car until the day someone broke into it. Here, I dismount.
I've probably done a couple of miles so far and this my first stop. I
remount and ride the hundred metres or so to the next gate, where there
is a white van parked. The family gathered around it issues theatrical
but good-natured gasps of amazement as I ride past. The young lad
sounds genuinely impressed.
This puts pressure on me as the next stage of the ride is a long and
uneven climb up a forest road. It's dead straight, and I will be in
view for a long time. I get my head down and go for it. Sooner than
expected, I am at the top and making the slightly tricky little climb
up a muddy slope beneath beech trees. Then I cruise beneath and
between the trees, the path not entirely clear. I try to avoid the
deepest patches of mud and fallen leaves, and in doing so, I manage to
pedal-strike a tree stump, for the first UPD of the day.
Next, a long and challenging ride, generally level or slightly down
hill, beneath beech and chestnut trees. The track is wide enough for a
Land Rover, and is rutted, and the surface has been ground into a black
slimy paste of mud, water, leaves, beech masts and chestnut cases. I
am keenly aware that a faceplant in this would be inadvisable and
unpleasant.
At intervals across the path, there are logs. Most of these are only
an inch or two in diameter, but some are rather thicker. I experiment
with riding over these, sort of half-hopping and whole-grunting, and
occasionally applying traumatic percussion to those parts of me nearest
to the seat. I do better than I would have on the old Pashley, but I
think Kris Holm can relax for a little while yet before my video comes
out (Not Just One Tyred Guy - One Totally Knackered Guy). Of course
the amusing play on words is less effective with the English spelling.
I do UPD a couple of times. Once is on the biggest log I've attempted.
I count it as a moral victory because both the unicycle and I land on
the far side of the log, so at least we crossed it! Once is on the
simplest little mud slope, which I have to try four times before I
manage it.
Next, the long slimy climb where I always fall off. The track is
deeply rutted, the ground is wet and muddy, the obstacles are concealed
by layers of fallen leaves, and all about there are logs (cunningly
disguised as alligators) waiting to leap out and ensnare my wheel.
Well, for the first time ever, I make it to the top without a UPD, and
I cruise easily down the sand and gravel path on the other side of the
hill.
Ahead of me, I see more red and white tape, and realise that I am
straying back onto the territory of the mountainbikers. I see a few go
past - high gear, low cadence, low speed, glumly gritted teeth. If
that's racing then, oh, something else that isn't true either. I've
done a lot of bicycling over the years, and I recognise dispirited and
fatigued incompetence when I see it.
I duck under the tape, toy briefly with the idea of following my usual
route, then decide to be a good boy and keep out of the racers' way. I
am rewarded with a previously unknown single track that snakes up a
hill through the forest and pops me out opposite the downhill course.
This is neither more nor less difficult than any other narrow track
through the forest, but there are a few earthworks where those with
sufficient kinetic energy might indulge themselves ballistically. I
content myself with flowing over the obstacles, splashing through the
mud, and grinning like a loon.
Then there is a tricky uphill, and at the top, two young lads on
mountain bikes. As I approach, I expect comments, but they
respectfully pull their bikes out of the way. I thank them and ride
through. The next section I know well, and it's a nasty one: deep
hollows across the path, all full of muddy water. Each is a potential
wheel trap and a sudden UPD waiting to happen. I hear the two lads
following me, and bark an urgent warning for them to hang back in case
I fall off and they run into me. One apologises, and I hear them back
off.
One starts shouting to an unseeen friend, "Wait, wait, wait at the
bottom of the hill, wait, you've got to see this, there's something I
want you to see, wait, you've gotta see this man on this, wait..." etc.
He sounds genuinely excited.
Meanwhile the pressure's on me not to UPD, and I grit my teeth and
concentrate, and take special care not to relax after the last of the
puddles. I swoop down the steep muddy slope and emerge onto the main
track next to a dumbfounded youth, dutifully waiting as instructed by
his vociferous friend.
I ride on, down to the BMX earthworks, and ride over each, taking more
adventurous lines than usual, then ride back out to be greeted by the
three lads. One of them asks me a question and I stop and we chat for
a bit. They sound enthusiastic. Nice kids - and their faces are
muddied like kids' faces should be. They've probably been riding
tricker routes than the adults in the mountainbike race - although, to
be fair, not as far.
Almost back to the car now, but I have to pick my route carefully to
avoid the race, and this sometimes means sneaking past marshalls as
inconspicuously as I can manage on a unicycle. One marshall, sitting
smugly in a LWB Land Rover looks like he won't let me on his section of
course, so I divert down a side track that I recognise, then turn down
a steep slope where there are two gravelly wheel ruts. It is still
raining, and water is flowing down the ruts, and it splashes up from my
tyre, soaking my legs and backside.
I cross the next main track, and then I'm on slimy mud again. Down the
hill, turn right, and on to what looks like the past proper climb of
the day: not too steep, but very wet, very muddy, very... my oh my...
I think I've invented the power slide! The uni goes one way, I go the
other, and I land flat footed and almost upright, but with considerable
forward momentum. My cycling shoes have flat soles with virtually no
grip, and the mud is like buttered Teflon. I find myself skiing for a
few seconds, arms windmilling, until I settle gracelessly onto my
backside in the deepest bit of mud I can find.
All I can do is laugh. So I do that.
Back up on the uni, then up the hill, and find my way past the cycle
race, and the advertsiing banners, and the tents selling go-faster
stuff, and at last I am back at the car.
I drive home in brightening sunshine, my backside slightly chilly
against the black rubber mat from the footwell that I've had to use to
protect the driver's seat.
--
Mikefule
Let every man so *p*itch his song
To help his neighbour sing along
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mikefule's Profile: http://www.unicyclist.com/profile/879
View this thread: http://www.unicyclist.com/thread/49243