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 on Bikes

I planned to keep a bit of a log of my two-wheeled adventures. The problem is, I've left it so long since I was going to start this that I've got a bit of a backlog to get through. So we're going to have to do a touch of pretending we're back in time for this...

28th June - The Chilterns Challenge

Very very late in the day - just a couple of weeks before - I got a message from Ed saying he and Beth would be visiting that weekend. So how about doing this years Chilterns Challenge? Since I'd hoped to do it anyway, and was already training for a 100 mile ride from York later in the year, I leaped at the chance. The route was similar to last years and I'd really enjoyed that.

I say really enjoyed.

It was a nice route, but it damn near killed me getting up those hills... Admittedly, I'd been doing almost no exercise that time round, and was riding a heavy rustbucket of a bike, but still. It was tough. So I had a little trepidation (to say the least) about how I'd find it this year. All the more because the weather forecast as the day approached kept tending more towards "you are going to melt". I can't remember what temperature was threatened, but it was alleged to be feeling well in excess of 30 degrees.

The ednbeth arrived late on Thursday night in advance of the ride. We decided to leave the bikes in the car and sort out taking them round to the garage the next morning. Which we did - along with my shiny new secondhand Kona Caldera which they'd brought down from Glentress for me (yup, I got the bug... although where I'm going to find mountains round here is anyones guess - more on that in subsequent posts, I suspect). Unfortunately, Ed decided to ride Beths bike round to the garage while simultaneously pushing his. And fell off, tacoing his front wheel, bending his bars, mangling his grip tape and nearly severing the cables on that side. Fortunately, he had a couple of days in hand to Do Fixing and by the time Saturday night came, his bike had been bludgeoned back into something approaching a rideable state.

The night before the ride, we cooked Epic Pasta and resolved to get up before six, in a bid to beat the worst of the afternoon heat. Shockingly, we did so. After a couple of false starts (forgetting such vital tools as a pump the first time round), we were off.

Arriving at Henley, we found the tiny car park at the start absolutely rammed with cars, but through some sneaky parking-on-the-driveway we managed to bag a plot and begin assembling our glorious steeds. A brief queue for registration, and a mere quarter of an hour or so of faffing around later we were off!

...for all of about three minutes. And then we realised we'd forgotten the sunscreen. Ed, bless his enthusiastic little socks, decided he was the person to ride back to the car, grab the cream, and catch us back up. Beth and I were to pootle along until he caught up. And pootle we did. After a little while, we were beginning to get concerned that he'd maybe missed the first turn. We were just about to turn back and go searching when we saw him in the distance, bombing up the road. It turns out that our pootle was a bit more like a brisk zoom, and poor Ed was now wrecked already from trying to catch up with us. Oops. Still, he had some respite while we gooped up. But not much. For we'd managed to stop at the start of the first big climb of the day... now, I remembered this with much trepidation from last year. The two big hills on the route had very nearly finished me off, and I'd been worrying that this year would be no different despite the training. I was both surprised and delighted to scoot up the first one pretty easily - so much so that I found the energy to wonder why the fellow in front of me was insisting on wobbling all over the road rather than just dropping gears and spinning more, like I had. It's not like he was going any faster than me, and I was having a much easier time of it... As an aside, I should mention that this is something I really don't get about a lot of road cyclists. They seem to actively want to make life harder for themselves by not having a triple chain set. Now, I sort of see that for the top-end elite cyclists that not having that tiny amount of extra weight might make a difference. And they're elite, so they don't need a granny ring. But, honestly, the majority of the folks I see out aren't elite. They're just in pain. I suppose that part of the answer might be that it's not fashionable to have all the gears at the moment, so it's hard to find bikes with them. Anyway.

Zooming down from the first hill, the road was beginning to feel a little sketchy, and since I wasn't sure how far it was to the junction I started to slow down a bit. Ed zoomed past me (probably with a "why are you slowing down?"), and then realised - just as I did - that we were about to hit the T junction at the end of the road. Fortunately, our brakes were up to the job.

Excitement over, we settled in to a merry pace, chatting as we went. Seemingly in no time at all we were at the first food stop. We zoomed straight past, deciding we didn't need to stop, only to stop a mile or so down the road (I think Beth ran out of water and needed a transfer, but I'm not sure now). We timed that perfectly so we were just setting off again as we passed the event photographer, who somehow managed to completely miss us.

Now we were hitting the BIG climb of the ride. Last year it was at the start of the route, and I remember it being pure purgatory and seeming to go on forever. I started to realise as I overtook a few people on the way up it that either my new bike was awesome compared to the old one, or I was far, far fitter this year. I suspect mostly the former. Once we were all up that hill, we were fast approaching the route split. We'd all signed up for 100km, but for some reason the organisers had Ed and Beth down for 100 miles. Destiny maybe? We decided not, and opted for the short route whilst confidently proclaiming we'd do the 100 miles next year (which, incidentally, Ed and I had confidently proclaimed last year too. We were now onto the swoopy downhill fun-run I remembered so fondly from my previous attempt at this ride, and swoopy swift fun it was. We ate up the miles to the next food stop, where we paused for a re-gooping and to swipe some supplies. There were zip-vit energy gels being given out, and I bagged a few in case I needed them later. Curious as to their effect, though, I decided to scarf one down straight away to see what it was like.

Oh my word.

I'm assuming that these things are designed for people who are on the verge of collapse. To someone very far from that point, they had the effect of making me giggle hysterically as I rode for about the next twenty minutes, weaving around like a drunken loon. The next section of the ride is a bit of a blur, and soon enough we were pulling over at the lunch stop. Pasta and doughnuts all round! By the time we set off again, it was beginning to really get warm. Whilst we were moving, all was well since we were at least getting some airflow, but whenever we stopped at junctions it was like stepping into an oven. Also at this point, we were beginning to hit the really chossy roads that I'd been fortunate enough to be packing front suspension for last year. I really do mean chossy, too, with quite a lot of the section between lunch and the last food stop seemingly midway back to turning into a dirt track. The heavy rain from last night was clearly in evidence too - the roads were covered in bits of branches, stones and earth which had been washed into the road by the torrential rain. Not fun riding for the full-on road bikes, but since we were riding a tourer (Beth) and a cross bike (me) we weren't to bothered. I distinctly remember Ed complaining about the bumpy surfaces on his audax bike (with the trashed bars), though.

Midway through this middle-of-nowhere only-barely-still-a-road section, we found the highlight of weird for the journey. A traffic jam behind a land rover which had fallen partly into a field. Rather than the other drivers get out to help, they thought it best to stop the cyclists who were mid-way through an event to get them to push the car back out of the field. Nice one, guys. Being pleasant types, push we did.

As we were approaching the last food stop, we saw a marvelous sight: A family out on their bikes. With a child trailer! And balance bikes! Sweet! I slowed down to have a chat with them, only to be overtaken by a pair of tandems. If only there'd been a trike and a unicycle too, I'd have had the full set...

After the last stop, the heat was beginning to tell. whilst the terrain now was mostly flat, I found this section to be a long grind (partly, I guess, because I knew most of the fun stuff was over). Up one last, then down a track to the river and we were back into Henley, and nearly at the finish. Since it was regatta time, the traffic was insane, and just before the town centre I was separated from the rest of the posse. Since we were nearly done (and the traffic was scary-busy), I headed off to the finish alone. Once again, I missed my chance to get a photo as the tandems pulled into the finish just ahead of me, with many oohs and ahhs. The photographer didn't even notice me slinking in past them. I claimed my medal, and then stuck around waiting for the others. Just a couple of minutes later, Ed rolled up, and then Beth... who stopped just short of the line, and made to start taking her bike apart and put it back in the car. She hadn't noticed the huge inflatable finish line, and just assumed that entering the car park again was the finish. We shouted her over, and she walked across the line, and we'd finished! Huzzah! Time to pick up our t-shirts and medals, splat down on the grass for a rest and marvel at the sheer number of bugs we'd managed to glue to ourselves using sunblock as we rode.

All in all, excellent fun. But only 100km, and I still felt pretty tired by the end of it so I was still far from confident that the 100 mile ride from York later in the year would go so smoothly...