Darkness

Hot on the heels of the weekend expedition, I got an email just before finishing work today saying there was a club ride tonight, 7-9. The first of my lights arrived the other day, and this seemed to be the perfect time to try them out. The club always seems to ride the same routes (so I was told) so I knew at least that despite the dark I'd be covering ground I'd ridden before.

Due to the late notice, though, this was going to be another ride without any food beforehand. I grabbed the crust of bread we had left over and bolted it down while I nipped over to the co-op with my shiny pound coin to buy a couple of chocolate bars. I scoffed one as I jogged over to the garage, got the bike out, and headed over to Witney. It's about six miles from the garage to the meeting point, and I had a whole 20 minutes to get there in, against a headwind. So once again, the trip started with a manic dash to catch people before they set off without me. Fortunately I made it just before they left, and with the briefest of greetings we were off to get out of town. The guys were in such a hurry to be off I didn't have chance to strap my light to my helmet, but I figured there'd be time for that later - it was only just beginning to get dusky. And we wouldn't get to anywhere wooded for a while yet.

About five minutes later, we turned left. In itself not unusual, but we'd never been down that road before when I'd been out... and why was everyone tanking it so fast? Oh well, head down, zoom along after them. Probably just eager to get to some fun stuff. Soon enough, we turn off the road... straight onto a wooded track. Arse. Oh well, still not that dusky, I should be fine... ooh crap, why is my bike sliding all over like a demented thing as I ride?

Turns out this track is strewn with lots of pebbles. Everyone slowly pulled away from me as I struggled to bully my legs into picking up more speed with the promise of chocolate as soon as it feels like I'm more than 50% in control of where the bike's going. Zooming out of the track and back onto the road, the two folks in front of me bunny-hopped up the curved curb ahead without breaking their stride. Determined to keep up, I do my best to do the same, and happily despite my failure to time it anything like right, and a gut-wrenching sideways lurch as the back wheel and the curb meet, I'm up and over and all is well.

At about this point I figured out it was likely that I wouldn't be having the easy ride I was hoping for. And then we turned into the jumps someone had cunningly made in the woods. I'd fallen a bit behind the two lead bikes, with the other guy behind me, and had no idea this was coming. I couldn't see their route through it, and we'd joined the run sort of in the middle. I figured out what I thought was sensible line through it all and just in time realised that if I carried on the way I was going, I was about to hit a deep double at the perfect speed to plough into the other side. Somehow I managed to squeak around it (and so did the chap behind me, who had also not noticed what we were riding into). Commenting about it later, it turned out the other two had ridden across and round the jumps - i.e., gone the sensible way. Oh well. Quickly we were on to the next bit, and another new experience for me: Going down steps. A flight of about six of them. The two lead guys shot off down them, and as I did a slow turn in the clearing before the steps to clip in, the final one of my companions disappeared down the gap in the foliage. I figured it was probably a bit late now to ask advice about how to ride them, got my weight back, dragged the back brake and with a mutter of "ah, screw it" went for it before I had a chance to think better of it. About three steps in I realised the suspension was working harder and harder each step... I was hoping I wouldn't end up running out of spring and pitching over the front bars, which felt ever more likely, and then with great relief, I got to the bottom and hared off after the others. A short run of roads and we were on a nice, zoomy, undulating turfy path with bumps just begging to get you a little air. I wasn't really expecting this, so squandered it for the most part (next time, maybe...).

I was beginning to get an idea of where we were now... just coming to the top of the rocky bridleway I mentioned last post. It seems we were now back on ground I'd actually ridden before, but doing it the opposite way. I was amazed at the difference in character going down compared to going up; what looked trivial features when climbing seemed to have grown over the past couple of days, and the gentle-ish climb was now a fairly speedy descent. I think it was down here that I managed to jump in the wild for the first time (if I actually got both wheels off the ground, that is). And nearly fell off; I really have to stop turning the front wheel while I'm in the air.

As we got to the bottom of the hill, a sinking feeling came over me. We were heading to the woods near Stonesfield again, where I'd been out alone at the weekend. I had been looking forward to this, but it was beginning to get really dark now... and we were going at it backwards. So I'd be going down the other side of the hole... bigger, steeper, rockier and new to me. In the dark. Eek.

I finally got my light fixed to my helmet at this point, crossed the river and into the half-light of the wood. The climb up this side was much much steeper than the route I'd taken before, which was probably good - I had no time to worry. At the top, the guys asked if I was up to riding down, or if I wanted to go round. It couldn't be more worrying than the steps, I thought. Ah screw it, lets go. Dropping in from this side sets you up for a jump at the bottom, and the guy in front of me got some monster air from it. My standard issue inability to plan my exit line well meant I missed the jump. But I made it down, no crashes, feeling pretty comfortable. Result!

The next section, a sweeping downhill through the woods to a sharp turn at the bottom was, if anything, more worrying than what I'd just ridden; it was properly fast. I didn't feel like I was shedding enough speed, but wasn't keen on hitting the brakes any harder. What to do? Turns out I had slowed down plenty, and made the turn with just the slightest skid (I should emphasise that everyone else did it much faster than me - the wuss is still strong in me). A twisty turny climb back out to the entrance to the wood, and we were back on the road for a bit. It was now getting properly dark as we hit a more protracted stretch of road riding, and my light got dimmer and dimmer. As soon as we pulled onto the next bridleway, I stopped to switch batteries. The next section is a bit of a blur to me... it wasn't boring, just nothing special as we trundled along the sides of a couple of fields. Soon enough we were in Hanborough and one of the group was turning for home.

Not the rest of us though. Time for the last wood of the day - Pinsley. Much flatter than the others, but much bigger, and with the feeling of the speeder bike sequence from Return of the Jedi as you weave around the trees - especially in what was now completely pitch darkness aside from our lights. I was trailing the two experienced guys relatively slowly now - I couldn't figure out how they were even able to follow the path at the speed they were going, much less negotiate the roots and stuff. If I didn't have their lights to follow, I'd have been totally lost pretty quickly. Just before the bomb hole run in the middle of the wood, we stopped and turned out the lights just to appreciate how dark it was. And then onto the main event: Two bomb holes, in succession, with a slight dip and turn between them. Going down the first one in the dark was a fantastic experience - just hurtling into pitch black and then the trail appears in front of you from nowhere like a wall as you hit the climb out the other side. After the second one, you just have to turn around at the top and head back through them. Whee! I got totally freaked out by hanging ivy as I hit the bottom of the last hole on my way out; in my peripheral vision I thought it was a branch, and swerved madly to avoid it. Lost my momentum, and had to walk the last part of the exit. Oh well. Unfortunately as we left the wood, I made exactly the opposite mistake - what I thought was ivy was a branch. I ducked as the trailed dipped under it, but forgot that I had a light on top of my helmet, meaning I was taller than I thought. Didn't hit it too hard, but enough to be a warning not to make that mistake again in a hurry!

Then we were out of the woods, and off towards the roads home. I got back about three hours after setting off, starving, and elated to have been out on my first ride in the dark and to have managed to nerve myself up to trying everything I was presented with. Riding at night is such a different experience; it's nerve wracking as things leap out at you from nowhere, and trails you think you know take on a different character but also really, really beautiful. Even though you can't see much. A great experience.

Then I got home, et tea and wrote this. Then probably went to sleep.

Fear

Having chilled the hell out after last post, I was inspired by Iains comment to get off my whiney arse and just find some fun. I mean, if he can provide options from the other end of the country I can surely just grab a map and go looking, right? With a couple of hours to spare, I was sure I could at least try to figure out a reasonable route to and from one of the near-ish bits that I'd been shown by the local club. I did have another motive, too: The big hole in the ground near Stonesfield scares me. I'm not even close to going down the Big Side of it, but even the not so huge drop terrifies me. Until this expedition, I'd been there twice with the club. The first time it was dusky and rainy and very very wet. It was my first time out on my bike. I'd set off without having had chance to eat anything that evening, and we reached the woods about an hour and a half after I'd set off from home. I was already shaky from hunger, and by the time we'd climbed up through the woods (about 5 minutes of fun) to the main event, looking down it there was just no way I was going to ride it. None. I made my apologies, and one of the guys showed me the way around.


Second visit, again with the club, was at least a sunny evening. There were a few more people around, and as we rode up through the woods I could feel the apprehension growing. By the time I got to the top, I was absolutley bricking it again. This time, I was determined to ride it. I know in my head it's not that big, and it's not that hard. Just keep my weight back, hands off the front brake, let the bike do its thing. It'll be fine. Plus, you're at the top now. Too late to turn back. Nice one! You've totally fooled yourself into going down! Ahahahahaaa!

Unfortunately I was so caught up tricking myself into actually trying it that I hadn't bothered to check out how to ride it out once I reached what I thought was the bottom. It's not, there's another much moroe gentle drop after it that you need to turn into. If you don't turn, you end up ploughing straight into the other side of the bomb hole. Straight into a wall of roots. Which I did, then fell off and spent the next five minutes changing the inner tube that I popped with my crash-stop.

So, on the whole I'm feeling a bit better about it - hey, I mostly rode it. I actually got it together enough to try it. But, if I'm going to be honest, I didn't really ride it. It was a mess, I didn't have my head together, and mostly I just chucked myself over the edge before I noticed. And I'm not really feeling that much better about it... It still scares me. A lot.



So. The only sensible thing to do is ride it more, right? And now, with my determination to go out and ride is the perfect time. Perfect. I'm a little worried about going out by myself, but I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to manage to mangle myself that much if it goes wrong. So I tell myself as I talk myself into going.

Now, it's a fair ride out there, mostly on the roads. I'd spotted a byway that looked like it might get me a bit of the way there with some stuff to keep my mind occupied on the way, but when I tried to ride it it turned out to be pretty much impassable due to the four-foot-high nettle and thorn beds that had grown right across the track as far as the eye could see. I struggled through it a little way in the hopes it would clear up, but it seemed like a hopeless (and painful) job. I turned back, and resigned myself to just following the roads for half an hour. The whole time, I could feel the apprehension rising. By the time I reached the woods I'd worked myself up to a ridiculous state. I really, really didn't think this was going to go well. But I realised that if I turned back now, this was just going to get worse. A brief text message to some friends (just so I didn't feel like I was as alone as I actually was at this point), and I began the climb.

By the time I got to the top, I was feeling physically sick with apprehension. But screw it, I came this far. Time to do it. Weight back, off the brakes, check the exit line, pretend like you want those roots to be there... GO!

...and I made it. The adrenaline rush, having worked myself up so much, was just insane. I was whooping like I'd just pulled the most insane stunt in the world, not ridden down something that - honestly - isn't really worth fretting about as much as I had. Now the big drop, over to the left... yeah. Maybe one day.

Here's the top bit:
I went down the leftish way (right as you look at it) - over the roots, not down the way my bike is blocking in the picture.

After that, I settled in to a nice hour of pootling around various bridleways on my way home. There's a fun rocky trail up to East End past the site of a roman villa which, while easy, at least feels like you're doing something (if you catch my drift), and the bridleway to Hanborough had enough uppy-downy ness to keep the euphoria of still being alive up. I burst into fits of laughter at my one bail of the day though - a totally hidden rut just next to the trail that I acidentally rode into. It was a little over wheel width, and deep enough that even with pedals level, I grounded instantly. Fortunately I was going slowly at the time, so just had to hop off.

I had planned to head over to another wood for some more fun, but time had caught up with me. Time to head home on the roads, pausing only to provide directions to lost motorists on the way.

"Adventures" off bikes

I've been trying my damndest to get some off-road cycling in. I tracked down a club near here, and I've been out with them twice (once in pouring rain, I chickened a few things, once in not pouring rain, and I rode everything I'd chickened the last time round - huzzah! I'm planning to take photos of the interesting bits, so I might post more here when I've done so). The problem is, whilst I really enjoy it, I don't really know where to ride, aside from the club (who I don't know yet) don't have anyone to ride with nearby, and on top of that, having ridden very little I'm not very good at it. That's fair enough; ride more and all will be well.

I have friends who are range from very good to jaw-dropping (in my eyes), but none of them live near here, so I only get to play with them when I go a-visiting. They also have lots of fun stuff to ride over near them, so I'm eager to get good enough to be able to ride that without bricking it the whole time. Again, that's going to come with time and experience, I know. I've been trying for months now to put in the time and get the experience, but it feels like such a non-starter sometimes that I can't help but get a little discouraged by it. We've had such mental weather on the nights that the club has been riding that a few times I've just not bothered to turn up (Hey, I made it to the pouring rain one, but thunderstorms, and high wind + bucketing it down extreme weather combos are a bit much for me - I don't mind getting wet, but since I have almost 0 confidence in good conditions, riding in a storm just doesn't feel appealing). In addition to that, aside from literally three small bomb holes (pictures to follow, as promised above), the local riding I've been introduced to is far from technical. If you're cool with riding on medium-chossy bridleway, or slaloming a little through a flat wood then you're going to be pretty much sorted for everything round here, it seems. Not that it isn't fun, it is, I just don't really feel like I'm going to learn much from it, and more importantly from my point of view it's not going to help me build confidence on the bike. I've tried to hook up with a variety of people when Up North, but between more Extreme Weather, financial woes (mostly of others), and the pressures of fitting things in around family time it's just not been happening.

This week, I realised that I'd left it somewhat late to sort out lights. I don't have any suitable to get me through even a dusky ride when we get to the fun bits (my recent experimentation has revealed), and it's getting darker from here on in. I've ordered some lights, but they're not going to be here by tonight, so that's going to be another week of not riding anything at all. I'm heading off up to Scotland early next Friday morning, and given I want to take both my bike and my Stuff with me, I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to fit in the 7-9 ride next Thursday either. I've also been looking at going on a skills course to try to learn something (anything!), but so far that's been comprehensively stymied by every fricking course I could make it to being Women Only.

I tried blowing off some steam about this to a couple of friends yesterday, and got pretty much blank incomprehension from them both. One outright said they couldn't understand why I'd want to do a skills course when there was nothing technical to ride round here anyway, and the other seemed to have pretty much the same opinion, but just didn't come right out and say it. Neither seem to really get why I'm so totally frustrated - both thought I should just "go out and ride more". It's easy to say that when you're surrounded by excellent riding and in the company of lots of other mountain biking folks all the time. I suspect I'm just annoying people by being all whiney at them. This is, I admit, pretty much par for the course for me (sorry). But I'm conscious that in a week and a half, I'll be back up where there are interesting things to ride, with people who are easily capable of riding them, and I'll be back to where I was pretty much where I started when I went up last time (i.e., terrified and clueless) due to lack of practice between then and now. By the end of the weekend, I'll hopefully feel a bit more confident again, and be having fun... only to come back home and do lots more Not Riding and lose it all. Again.