Four Miles Fighting Traffic

Legal Issues

2017-08-31T11:30:00.000+01:00

Cycling has been in the news a lot recently, in particular there has been a lot of media attention around the case of Charlie Alliston.

In case you weren’t aware the facts of the case are that Alliston was riding on Old Street in London when he collided with Kim Briggs. Tragically Briggs was killed in the accident from a head injury. Alliston was charged with manslaughter in an unprecedented move by a prosecution that relied almost entirely on the fact that he had been riding a bike with no front brake.

The case was reported by the Guardian here in an article that uses a large amount of emotive language to lay blame firmly at the feet of the cyclist. There is no denying that Alliston should legally have had a front brake on his bike. Nor is there any question that it is a tragedy that someone was killed in the collision but there is a lot more going on around the case to look at.

Reporting of the case was widely against the cyclist, with headlines that suggested he “ploughed” into Briggs or “mowed her down”. One radio report said he had no brakes (which is legally inaccurate as the fixed rear wheel on his track bike counts as a brake). The first problem is that Alliston is not a very likable person based on what we know of his actions. The judge in the case said he showed no remorse and while the evidence that he shouted at Briggs following the accident might be put down to the heat of the moment, his decision to go on social media shortly after the incident to protest that it was in no way his fault is less defensible. However, Alliston wasn’t on trial for being a massive twat, but rather for being responsible for Briggs’ death.

There are some very good points made in this piece by a QC for the Guardian, which cover some of the legal and technical points. My concern is over the precedent this potentially sets to blame cyclists for every accident on the roads. Let’s be clear, Briggs stepped into the road less than 6.5metres in front of Alliston. He was travelling at 18mph and shouted at her to get out of the way as he swerved to avoid her. She stepped back into his path resulting in the crash. His reactions look to have been designed to make every effort not to hit her, and there is a question over how fast he might have been able to stop, safely, with a front brake. Had this been a motorist, hitting the brakes and swerving from 18mph as someone steps out a fraction of a second ahead of them would we be having the same discussion?

The prevailing attitude towards cyclists at the moment has fuelled this entire case. On the roads they are seen as law-breakers and risk-takers by a society that puts the rights of cars above all else. As has been shown time and again there are some people who do break the rules of the road, just as there are drivers and pedestrians who do the same thing. In this case there was evidence given that Alliston enjoyed watching Alley Cat videos, with the suggestion that this made him a danger. Of course these videos are exciting because of the danger, as are many forms of bike video, but is anyone suggesting that a driver who also enjoys watching films including dramatic car chases can’t separate them from real life when they are driving themselves.

The prosecution in this case dredged up archaic laws to prosecute Alliston demonstrating the rarity of fatalities from cycling accidents like this. In contrast there are clearly defined laws to legislate for causing death by driving as it happens much more regularly and never makes front page news. The result of the case takes yet another step towards the blaming of cyclists rather than encouraging more people to use it as a form of transport. How many people have now been discouraged by the risk of the consequences of an accident they may have been able to do very little about.

In my opinion Alliston should have been fined for riding an unroadworthy bike and nothing more. While he’s come across badly in the press let’s not forget that he has to live on with the knowledge that he killed someone at close quarters. The impact of his life of this tragic accident is significant even without the extra weight of the trial and potential prison term. Is it possible to really believe he took any actions that deliberately made him responsible for this death?

So what can we do as cyclists? I have said before that one way is to remain whiter than white in terms of obeying the rules of the road to be beyond reproach. It would seem that this should also go to being on the money with the way your bike is set up. The Highway Code has no grey areas around things that many people run without, including pedal reflectors for example, and riding without them may open you up to blame for any accident you may be involved in. There needs to be a wider move to see cycling as a valid method of transport with the prejudice against it removed and more people encouraged to take it up.

A Return to North Wales

2017-08-30T15:01:00.001+01:00

It was actually a pretty long time after my car-park shame with the full susser before I rode it again. I filled my time with waiting for parts to arrive, fitting them, but mostly with riding the hardtail. On various loops around Hertfordshire I enjoyed the changing fields, the fast running dry dirt and the sunshine.

In the middle of this period I went on holiday and squeezed in a ride on a terrible Rocky Mountain hire bike around brilliant trails at the Lac Du Salagou. Apparently a favourite of local French DH star Miriam Nicole the classic lake loop was more than I hoped for, with red, iron-rich, rocks and challenging technical sections that flowed beautifully and made me wish for a better bike. On flats with the cheap fork topping out every time it left the ground it could have been a frustrating ride, but actually left me wanting to explore more of the area.

It was the beginning of August before the Process got another chance to get outside. I felt by then it had learned its lesson and would behave so I gave it a quick chance in the Chilterns and at Swinley (to also check that everything was working) and then headed off up the M1 for a bit of a trip. I had tried to persuade people to come with me, but ended up broadly alone for the few days riding more technical fare.

First stop was at Cannock. This was designed to break the journey, but also to introduce a friend to the wonders of mountain biking. We learned a lot about the levels of fitness required, inspired a bit of work to happen on that front and still (I think) managed to have fun. Guiding round half of the trail was good form a social point of view, but I couldn’t resist a blast round the second half after pointing Dave back to the car.

From here I continued to outrun the rain and head North West into the mountains. A-roads revealing the solid peaks of Snowdonia easing closer and closer took me all the way to a campsite in Llanberis where I pitched the tent, worried about ever removing the car form the field I’d parked it in, broke out my new camping stove, had a mediocre shower and put myself to bed by something ridiculous like 9pm.

At half past four the next morning I was up and dressed and watching the light slowly coming in as I nervously packed a bag (properly for once), ate breakfast and lightly fretted. At twenty-past five I decided it was light enough and rolled out of the site into the silent village, then onto the brutal road ramp to take me to the bottom of the Llanberis path up onto Snowdon. The early start meant I would have plenty of time before the voluntary bike ban kicked in at 10, but made for an eerie and unsettling climb up into the clouds with the imposing bulk of Snowdon occasionally making its presence known. The climb is hard but steady on the lonely mountain side up to a point where it really becomes a hike-a-bike, and where I also met the first people also up there at the early hour. I pushed on up, with stunning views as the sun fought through the clouds, pressing on up the ridge walking and riding and eventually making it to the summit. There is a slight culture shock as you hit concrete steps and the café but early in the morning there were only a few people around and it would be hours before the café opened so it retains a sense of drama. This drama was heightened as the clouds parted for a moment revealing a view all the way to the sea, but then closed in again so fast as to leave me wondering if I’d imagined it.

Summit pictures taken and another layer pulled on I checked the map and rolled back carefully from the summit looking for the Snowdon Ranger path. This is perhaps the classic Snowdon bike route and mixes a steady climb with a more sporting descent.

The Ranger Path starts loose and open and closes to narrow rocky sections, steeply dropping you off the mountain. In good weather the views are spectacular but the clouds were still heavily down and I dropped through fairly low visibility until the technical level of the riding eased and I flew out into a sunny morning valley. From this point there’s a brutal grass climb (push) that rewards you with a rattling long steady descent through Telegraph valley and back to the campsite. At 8:30 I was back at the tent, packing it up and starting the drive out of the heart of Snowdonia.

By something like ten thirty I had arrived in the early spiritual home of mountain biking, at Coed Y Brenin. Here the original trails have grown into an extensive outdoor centre including walking and running trails as well as mountain biking to challenge everyone. I was unconvinced by the weather for the next day so decided to get a ride in here rather than saving it for the morning.

The MBR trail is a classic technical black loop, not for jumps and drops but for the punishing rockiness and climbing. It was great fun to ride and left me feeling reasonably ok about an afternoon sitting in the sun in a campsite.

The next morning I followed this up with the other short black route and dragged my developing cold around the Bull complete with technical rock-rolls and more rocky batterings to leave you grinning.

I arrived back at the car just as the threatened rain turned from drizzle to doing it properly and so got changed, and took refuge in the car and then on the A470 cruising back down through Wales as the rain set in steadily. I drove back with mixed feelings. I’d ridden some excellent rides, but hadn’t covered great distance and wondered if I could have, or should have, done more.

In Bristol I had other priorities, but squeezed in a classic blast round the Mendips, finishing the trip as I’d begun and guiding someone round a route I know well to introduce him to the riding on his own doorstep.

For those of you with an interest in my health the cold that hit me in Wales lasted well in to the next two weeks and would result in a wholly unsatisfactory struggle around Kent a week or so later.

Summer Riding

2017-07-10T11:30:00.000+01:00

We last spoke when the full susser was in the shop to be fixed. When this was fixed I had a big plan to rebuild it in a carpark at Swinley and pop out on a fun lap. It turned out that a new chain on an old cassette didn’t want to behave and the ride was frustratingly abandoned.

Since then the hardtail has been getting some serious action around home. This included taking full advantage of the dry weather to head out onto those paths that are impossible to ride in the winter. At this time of year there are clattering field edges to ride fast, sweeping past crops that are slowly ripening from green to gold as the summer progresses.

I also headed North West to explore the winter ride in faster and drier conditions. This was a ride that would also inspire a visitor from Australia to follow the route having found it on Strava, and validate my view of it by enjoying his ride. In the end I did it both ways round to see what was best.

In order to not restrict myself to riding to the North of London I also ventured round the M25 to explore another ride on the Eastern end of the North Downs. I had been hoping for wide open spaces here, but found a ride dominated by woods and steep climbs up onto the escarpment. This was no bad thing in the sunshine and made it all the more dramatic to come out of the woods to a view of the Medway.

Looping back and forth over motorways and the Eurostar line, this was a feature-filled looping ride.

As the good weather settles in I find myself wanting to make the most of it by being on the bike for longer. It’s always satisfying to achieve something, and a loop around a city is as good a target as any. I’ve investigated ways to circumnavigate Hertford before but this version took some of the closer options, giving a taste of the combination of woods and sweeping waves of crops that make up the countryside around the town.

The medium circuit of what Hertfordshire has to offer got me thinking further about a plan that I’ve had since last year. This involved a wider loop, taking in the edges of all the rides I’ve done in recent years, and with the aim to hit 100km. During the week I planned it out using the excellent justgoride website and felt the nerves build. It came in just over the target at 116km, which I expected would take around 6 hours. The distance is more than I’ve ever ridden in one go, but I’ve done 6 hour rides before and it would be interesting to see which had the bigger impact.

The Hertfordshire Hundred

For this day out I planned much more thoroughly than I usually do for a ride here. I bled my brakes and gave the bike a once over, adding a bottle cage. I made sure I packed spares and tools, but added food and several bottles of water and energy drinks.

Rolling out I switched my watch over to a map view so as not to watch the distance tick by, and settled into a routine of thinking about what I was riding and no more than one section ahead. On this basis I rolled through the wooded areas, in the early morning clouds and started to make sure I drank plenty on every tarmac section where I could relax slightly. I worked round the mix of lanes and singletrack and through my first checkpoint at Hertingfordbury and then out into the more open North West, towards Tewin and then on towards Watton at Stone.

After Watton there are more fields with a section on the second Roman road of the day before turning south to make my way into the really wide open corn field sections with main road crossings sharp climbs and a couple of fords as the route snaked East towards Much Hadham.

The village of Much Hadham had me just short of the 100 and felt like a real landmark as it represented the last portion of the ride, briefly out towards Bishops Stortford and then south back towards the start. Here it started to get hard, as the time riding ramped up and the tiredness in my body and mind made everything harder. A silly crash, dropping my front wheel in a rut and my body in the corn, woke me up a little and I pressed on, eating the last of my food and switching to Lucozade rather than mixed energy drinks. The last field edges and the final climb were an effort, but I was soon rewarded with the sight of the car and the satisfaction of not feeling as bad as I feared I might.

This was a brilliant, long, tough but hugely rewarding ride that covered the whole range of what Hertfordshire can offer. It’s hard to remember the start as you hit the end of the ride and every section offers something new and extra variety. There’s the landmark of the hundred km and I’d like my time to cover it to stand as a (very) minor distance challenge for anyone else who wants to try the same ride.

What Do I Ride 1 - Kona Caldera

2017-06-12T11:30:00.000+01:00

Any bike publication worth their salt eventually does a “what do we ride” feature and I don’t see why I should do anything different. There’s only me so it’ll be a short and irregular series.

This weekend the full-susser went into the bike hospital and I was battering my body on the hardtail, which gives me the perfect opportunity to start the series with:

2004 Kona Caldera

Frame – 2004 Kona Caldera
Fork – Rockshox Recon
Wheels – Mavic Crossride
Tyres – Continental Mountain King
Brakes - Shimano SLX
Crankset – Shimano Deore, modified to only run the middle 34t ring
Drive – 10 speed cassette with Shimano SLX Shadow+ mech, Shimano XT shifter, e-thirteen chain guide
Contact – WTB Volt saddle, Ritchey Rizer Pro bars, Shimano LX pedals

This is broadly my second choice bike and as such runs a mixture of solid reliable parts and budget decisions to match its status. The bike is built around a Caldera frame that was my main bike for years and reflects the fashion from the time, with steeper angles on a stiff aluminium build. There have been many iterations of the bike around gearing options, and it’s now settled on a 1x10 system using a modified Deore crankset. The chain retention device is a hangover from before it had a clutch mech keeping things in place and I haven’t seen any reason to get rid of it, preferring a belt and braces approach.

The Recon forks are a recent replacement for a Sektor R that reached the end of their life, offering air sprung smoothness over coil suspension. Wheels come from Mavic and are light, with bladed spokes despite being very competitively priced, and the tyres are also on the cheap side. Conti Mountain Kings are fast rolling but not very subtle, but are adequate for what the bike does.

What it gets used for is non-technical riding and muddy days out where speed and simplicity is the most important thing. On rockier or rougher terrain it’s skittish and a challenge to control especially on narrow 90s riser bars but I still love this bike. Pedals and saddle are old favourites, the seat is a cheaper copy of the one on my other bike and brakes are the same, while the pedals are old favourites as I run SPDs on every bike.

It’s a light, fast, bike that reminds me every time I ride that hardtails are great in the right place. It climbs incredibly and helps to keep me honest when I’m riding the big bike.

This weekend this bike got two excursions, at least one reminding me of the advantages of riding on suspension as I clattered down the lines I would have taken on that bike.

A Peak District Tour

2017-05-30T11:30:00.000+01:00

After a week of beautiful sunshine it seems only natural to want to celebrate with a big ride.

In terms of landscape the Peak District offers some distinct big-ness. After much debate I woke up early, and hit the M1 for 3 hours to go and get some time on some real hills. This was how I found myself in the carpark in Castleton at 9:30 with a plan and even some lunch. It was raining.

The rain gave way quickly to a muggy morning to start the climbing, out of the town and up towards Mam Tor on a road that famously has fallen off the hill and so now makes a nice traffic-free and slightly off-road start to the day. From there proper tarmac took me up to the first pass at Rushup Edge. This track hit the headlines a while ago as it was the focus of some less-than sensitive repair work, but the bedrock remains with loose rocks on other sections and it still stands up as a good warm up for Peak District descending. More of the same on the Pennine Bridleway dropped me into a steep valley and onto my first pushed climbing section. The climbs here are tough and often loose and the heat and my lingering cold were not working in my favour. I pushed a little, then remounted and rode on. I was doing this section in the opposite direction from usual and it seems to work as well either way, with each brutal climb I remembered becoming a clattering downhill.

Soon I was approaching the long loose climb up to Kinder Scout which was dealt with in short bursts, and fully ridden up to the seriously steep, loose and challenging top section, where I was on foot again. Halfway up I passed a pair of e-bikes with riders fixing a puncture and I wonder which way they were addressing it, and what the legal position of powered bikes on bridleways is. Finally reaching the top of the climb, with sweat pouring off me, it was time for the point of doing this “backwards”, which was a descent of Jacobs Ladder. This starts with steep rock sections where the pack road has fallen apart and then drops into a loose switchback across the hill on rocks big enough to move considerably under your wheels. Crossing the stream at the bottom led to a recovery cruise down the valley to the road again.

Another tough climb, that I’d be lying if I suggested I rode all of, followed to take me up to Rushup Edge again and then off on a couple of road sections before a wide steady climbing track into the wind to put me above Castleton again, with the highly technical Cave Dale to drop through to get back to the car. It felt like I dealt with this tough descent better than ever before, but any comparison was lost as I somehow managed to mess up the GPX file for Strava.

Even without analysis of my performance this was a brilliant day out in the hills, well worth the 6 hours’ driving and leaving me with videos and sunburn to show for a day of real, proper mountain biking.

Training? Just Playing Out.

2017-05-15T11:30:00.000+01:00

Another weekend, another biking story. This time another parable of how different fun on a bike can be. In retrospect you could view the variety as great cross-training. But training for what, I have no idea.

Squeezed into the start of Saturday, in a brisk wind, I went to the BMX track and made sure I still had what I’d built up before roughing up my knee last week.

Heading home via my usual test of strength to hop up a low wall, then parked the bikes until Sunday when a beautiful late Spring day begged me to get out into the baked out, dusty trails of Hertfordshire. Another variation of linking previous routes, with the added options provided by a lack of clogging wet clay anywhere to play with, took me looping up from Hertford, through Watton and out to the North. A couple of exploring turns to shorten the total and one that found a sweet singletrack option next to the usual bridleway took me on a smooth 50-odd KM in the breezy sunshine. The fast tracks, lovely weather and, I guess, good fitness took me round the Hertfordshire countryside smoothly on one of those days where you reach the car wishing for more but tired and satisfied with a few hours in the saddle.

More Closed Routes

2017-05-08T11:30:00.000+01:00

Another irritating theme is developing with recent riding. As I explore different areas to ride I’ve found too many blocked ways and closed paths. In Wales this happened in spectacular fashion but it came up again this weekend in Hertfordshire.

This ride was an attempt to start in St Albans and link into the riding I knew existed to the East. As you can see there some early false starts. Firstly when a track that I hoped would cross the motorway actually came to a dead stop before crossing. Soon afterwards another track was closed for work, the second section to fall to roadworks in the same area of Hertfordshire this year. Both meant annoying diversions, in each case racking up the tarmac miles on this exploring ride. Overall the best sections were easily the ones I already knew, but I might have missed some opportunities to the north of St Albans, however much there was little that grabbed my attention on studying the map.

Home from this trip I wanted some more flowing fun (in a similar style to last week, oddly). I rolled off to the BMX track to blast over some jumps and berms. Results were mixed.

A post shared by @andy_c_11 on May 7, 2017 at 7:52am PDT

When it was going well, it felt great, hitting jumps at times too hard and overjumping the doubles. It was probably this speed that put me on the deck, but at least I got up and back at it before heading home with blood running down my leg. The old saying is true and not getting back up there does more damage the next time out.

Cymru Contrasts

2017-05-05T11:30:00.000+01:00

Mountain bikes offer the option to ride perfectly maintained flowing trails, where you can let it all hang out, and that’s great. They also let you go exploring and that’s even better. You can sit over a beer in an evening, preferably in a nice cottage with a wood burner, or a casual outside table overlooking the valley and pull out a map to trace the opportunities in the shape of likely-looking bridleways.

That’s what we did last weekend, although minus the idyllic evening setting and more revisiting old ideas. My brother lives in Wales and had been eyeing up a couple of long bridleways stretching over the Black Mountain. You can see them here. They looked enticing and we imagined pony tracks into the wilderness that would ease us up and over to drop back to the valley the other side of the mountain. The first one proved us not far wrong as after a dynamic drive through mountain lanes we parked, pulled on more clothes than expected for late April, thanks to a biting wind and turned the pedals over up a stony track into the teeth of a stiff breeze. After a while things turned downhill and small rock gardens gave way to boggy grass and discussions about how this was just about as wet as it could be to ride. Some sketchy navigation placed us at the gate as expected and we spun down the road to pick up a bike track along the valley, feeling pretty damn pleased with ourselves.

The next track was where we expected and we paused for quiche Lorraine under a tree before pressing on.

And then things got less straight forward.

Following a concrete track we arrived at the end of the main route over the top of the hills, except it wasn’t there. Bringing on our combined map reading experience we followed the fence that was beside the marked bridleway and managed to drop knee-deep into a bog. There was no track, so we branched out to try and meet where it should be. There was no obvious path anywhere on the hillside but we pressed on, looking for high ground to scope the possibilities, then following the route of the path that wasn’t. We spent the next few hours walking, pushing bikes over unmarked moorland, round boulder fields and down steep inclines, until we picked up a stream that we followed to its source on the shoulder of the hills.

The hours we spent trudging across the hill were not what you hope for in a ride and there were definite moments of less enthusiasm for the whole adventure, until we started the descent. Here we found a marginally better defined path, although that didn’t stop me high-siding myself straight into yet another bog as I stalled the bike on some inconvenient reeds. After rolling down to civilisation in the shape of a gate we realised the map had fallen out of a bag thanks to a fault zip and we tried to remember the end of the ride. This went well, on a final track that was mostly ridable and then a switchback road climb, to complete a 30km ride in something like 5 hours. We madeit back to shower before dinner.

It turns out we were remarkably close to the route of the bridleway most of the way, and can confirm there is no path there. This would explain why this route appears in no mountain bike guides.

Perhaps frustrated by this non-ride I went looking for an easy thrill the next day. Nothing does that quite like South Wales’ trail centres and I headed to Glyncorrwg to get a fix on Whites Level. The beautiful combination of singletrack climbing and flowing fast built technical descents had me grinning and jumping everything I felt I could, riding it fast (for me) and smooth. Exactly the buzz I wanted, and making it impossible to not stop off at Cwm Carn for a lap of Cafall (with Pedalhounds) on the Sunday. Climbing strongly and enjoying each moment the bike fell away in front of me and stuck in the corners, I revelled in the contrast of a damp trail, over the dry dusty conditions on Whites. The woods were steaming as the warmth of the day evaporated the water in the dirt and sections that were covered in leaves were now clearer and slightly scarier for it.

A weekend of balance and contrast that showed everything that Wales and mountain bikes can offer you.

Social Swinley and Sunshine Spines

2017-04-25T11:30:00.000+01:00

There are rides that remind you to enjoy being on a bike. On short notice a friend decided to test ride a new bike he might (definitely will) buy. He could do this at Swinley, so I took the day off and went to help him check it out.

He wanted a playful bike and the Bird Aeris with modern slack angles and a bright orange frame seemed to fit the bill and supported my theory that when you ride the right bike to buy you just know. The thing is that the fun factor easily rubs off when you ride in that way and I found myself popping off all the lips I could find. This meant a slower, more social and relaxed ride, which somehow also ended up being quicker on the fun downhill sections.

We tried some new angles with the GoPro, although plans to use two cameras was spoilt by Joe failing to bring anything to attach his camera to anything, so the result was a little linear, but shows the fun of a test bike, I think.

After a fun, poppy dusty ride there I was off to Dorset. Saturday dawned sunny, but slightly hungover in my case, but with kit on and sunglasses in place I rolled out to link up to a ride I’d last been on over a New Year. Bright, sunny weather brought out the full potential of the Isle of Purbeck and was far better than the sideways hail I’d hit last time out. I slightly misjudged the length of the road ride in to the ride, but I was eventually on the end of a track that would lead me along the spine of the peninsular, dropping in past Corfe Castle and then rolling on out with amazing views towards the end. After several ricocheting downhills and a couple of steep climbs I turned off what I’d done before to pick up a beautiful bridleway heading south. I would like to emphasise that it was a bridleway to reinforce my point to the walkers who tried to block my way through on the basis that it was a footpath. To reaffirm, it was a bridleway.

Quickly rolling through Swanage I climbed onto the ridge along the coast. Rolling along dusty tracks I soon began to climb up to a final viewpoint where, fuelled by a quick lunch, I was able to look along the coast to beautiful coves before flowing fast and loose down to the road. From there it was a case of digging in and getting through the road section back to the hotel, holding on to the memories of the hills as I ground out the last of the tarmac.

Rides on dusty tracks with sunshine soaked views of the sea never fail to leave some pretty amazing memories to think about for the next week and talk about in the pub later.

Downhill with no Brakes

2017-04-11T11:30:00.000+01:00

Following the fork problems I was hoping for a trouble-free weekend of riding as I headed to Bristol and then to an uplift day at the Forest of Dean. This was not entirely going to be the case.

A bunch of time on the hardtail meant that I wanted a moment to reacquaint myself with the wider bars and softer ride of the bigger bike, so I stopped off on the way to Bristol to get a big open space ride from the historic standing stones of Avebury. It was clear that things weren’t great already as the dropper post started slipping on road sections, leaving me hoiking it up like a woman in slightly over-sized tights every few minutes. Otherwise I got a sunny, windy ride on open tracks before driving on to Bristol for the night.

The next day with no extra preparation I drove on to Wales to get in some climbing ahead of the day of riding downhill on Saturday. Ambitiously I approached a ride which started with a loop of the Blorenge. The climb up to the top is brutal by any account, on road and then tracks, followed by a cruise across the top and an awesome singletrack descent which throws in a bit of beautiful riding with views that are much, much better when you can see them.

After the first loop the ride went back through the village where I’d parked and then out on roads towards the Black Mountain. I started the road section with trepidation and tired legs. Having committed I wasn’t going to turn back and dragged my way up the road then a push up the steep rocky track to the moor on top. All of this led to a flowing dipping run over the shoulder of the hill and down back to the road for a grind back to the car, via a pork pie, pasty and crisps from a garage.

Saturday was a day where a slipping dropper post wouldn’t matter as the seat post would be slammed all day, however there would be other problems at the Forest of Dean. Slippery trails and roots were the order of the day after each ride up in the minibus and the first few runs were tentative but fun. As the day went on we probably got better, as we dialled in the trails, but still found them technical, especially as the rain made everything even more challenging. Maybe I should have run a softer fork or tyre but I, for one, struggled to get comfy.

Before long it became clear that things would get harder as my rear brake stopped working altogether. To make up for missed riding I cruised out onto a lap of the cross country loop, as my downhill runs were clearly over. It turns out that even cross country downhills are pretty sketchy with only front wheel braking so it was a distinct challenge.

So, with all plans of riding on Sunday abandoned due to a broken bike I drove back to London and ordered a bleed kit for the brakes. While I waited I gave the seatpost a strip and rebuild with fresh grease and a new remote cable. To my great surprise this worked well and the bike was waiting by the end of Sunday with a working dropper post that didn’t slip. Once the kit arrived this was added to with surprisingly easy brake bleed and working brakes. To celebrate I went and rode the other bike over beautifully dried out fields above Ware in the bright Spring sunshine.

Feeling very accomplished I could only finish off the weekend with a hot summer-style morning on the BMX track, finally getting the courage to nail the first three doubles, jumped one after the other.

Fork Problems

2017-04-10T11:30:00.000+01:00

Spring so far has been slightly dominated by mechanical incidents, mixed in with some excellent sunshine riding.

For a while the forks on the hardtail have been a little sticky to say the least. By “sticky” I mean that they were entirely seizing up between rides, to only be freed up each week by a liberal application of my entire body weight to get them going again. Clearly this wasn’t ideal, and I had been toying with the idea of replacing them, or, perhaps facing the disgust of a bike shop to get them serviced, when my hand was slightly forced.

It was during this muddy and drizzly ride that things came apart a little.

The dust seal on one leg became detached and it was followed by the remnants of the sponge lubrication thing below. Luckily the fork still managed to work for the remains of the ride, but it was definitely time to consider my options around them.

In the next week a new set of forks arrived after I ordered a very reasonably priced Rock Shox Recon, which, while looking cheap, offered 100mm of new smooth air travel. While I was at it I got a new headset, for two very good reasons. Firstly, I really couldn’t be bothered with trying to remove the crown race from the old forks, and secondly the bottom bearing race on the old headset appeared to be totally unmoving as well. All of these new parts set up a fun morning of the scariest type of bike maintenance. Basically all of the jobs involved in fitting a new fork and headset involve bashing stuff pretty hard, so i was slightly nervous as I approached the Saturday morning session.

Taking the fork out was straight forward and I was quickly into the hitting a screwdriver hard to remove the headset cups bit. This went well, and the new ones went in with a bit of bashing and a lot of pressing with an improvised big bolt and washers set-up. The next scary job is to take the brand new fork you’ve just bought and chop a lump of it off with a hacksaw. I got through this with minimal sweating and a slightly sharp edge left on the steerer to cut my finger on. Bleeding but unbowed I found a hoover tube and used it to subtly bash the new crownrace into place. After more bashing to get the star nut in place, more or less, I slotted everything together in a final flurry of bolting rather than bashing, and went for a ride.

Very pleasingly nothing fell apart and I didn’t fall catastrophically through the front of the bike wrecking my face or anything else I might have used to break my fall, so I finished the ride pretty pleased with my competency as a bike mechanic. Also, I had a revitalised front end to the bike which ran much smoother than the last fork.

That previous fork was ripe for some servicing, not least to see what might be wrong with it. After some research and more bashing over a few days I was able to remove the lowers and find the cause of the sticking. It would seem that the forks had been running for a long while only lubricated by some brown sludge, which might explain the performance issues. I’m debating rebuilding them, but it may be a lost cause.

Badger Lynching

2017-03-14T11:30:00.000+00:00

March, the most teasing of months, is in full swing. One minute you dare to dream of summer as a commute is bright enough for sunglasses and you almost make it home in not total darkness, and then it throws it all back at you with rain and wind.

The riding is as varied as the weather. Early in the month I had a beautifully constructed plan to collect someone from Heathrow, via a cheeky lap of Swinley. On paper this was perfect, as the trails are roughly 20minutes from the airport. It all went well down to Bracknell, and round the wet tracks which were pleasingly much less crowded than the carpark suggested. Reasonably fast and flowing this was fun even with half an eye on the time.

As I arrived back to the car to a couple of missed calls to tell me the plane had landed ahead of schedule things were still on track as I would get there well before customs and baggage reclaim were negotiated. Pleased with myself I swept out of the carpark and towards the airport.

Whether I missed the junction or it was closed is something I’ve refused to go back and check, at risk of discovering that the outcome was down to me rather than the upgrading of the M3. Either way instead of arriving at Heathrow in perfect time I found myself a junction further up the M3 in stationary traffic for a solid two and a half hours. Any of the hard-won calm that riding provides rapidly evaporated into the anger of being helplessly stuck, in the rain, watching the rear lights of the car in front for hours.

A week or so later it was time to ride again. The weekend was a mixed bag, with Saturday taken up with other sport and beautiful, warm and full of hope, followed by Sunday which was damp and drizzly all morning. By early afternoon I was fed up of watching cars go past on a wet road and judging the level of rain by the speed of their windscreen wipers and decided that the only real answer was to go out and ride anyway.

As is so often the case being in the rain was less bad then you imagine from the way it looks on the windscreen and wearing the right kit works wonders for your ability to ride through it. In any case I hardly noticed as the rain stopped a few minutes in and after the initial shock of getting sprayed with wet mud it’s easy to get used to it when it’s warm enough. A couple of hours being liberally coated in muddy water is perhaps the epitome of British mountain biking and can be fun as long as you know you have somewhere to get warm, clean, and dry afterwards.

The contrasts of this time of year were brought in to focus on Monday when a warm, sunny, Spring day, exactly as forecast dawned. Heading towards Kent, I decided to check out more of the riding that the North Downs can offer. After an hour escaping London I set off to follow the guide book I obtained last year. I was reminded that the author enjoys a good hard climb as straight from the car it went up on a track that was pretty much unridable in the conditions. I was starting to doubt whether this had been a sensible choice, but pressed on to find a broadly dried-out, flowing and fun loop that took me through woods enjoying the hint of spring as much as I was, through villages and past incredible houses. The ride even threw in some technical parts that had me wishing I’d brought the bigger bike along, rather than the hardtail I elected to ride. The downhills were stepped in many cases and a great opportunity to remember how to ride them without the benefit of 140mm of air suspension to help.

Broadly the mud was not too sticky to get through or over and in between the worst patches it was a ride skipping and rolling through the Kent countryside. I mean I could have done without the badger strung up by the neck overhanging the path, but otherwise it was excellent.

Deeply back into the Winter

2017-03-02T11:30:00.000+00:00

You might remember (and if not you can scroll down and read) that I hoped spring was on its way a week ago.

Off the back off this I made an optimistic plan to have a few days riding around Bristol. However, I was very wrong about the end of winter and my dreams of slightly damp trails ridden in the sunshine were not to come true. Perhaps I should have remembered that it was the end of February, and actually still likely to be wet and cold.

In true style the moment I got through the toll gates on the Severn Bridge it started to rain but I pressed on to Cwm Carn, got ready and pushed out onto the damp Cafall trail. It was a damp but warm climb, and I was in the mood to hurt myself up the hill, so it flew by in a blur of big-ring cranking. It started to hurt more towards the final sections but I was soon onto the pay-off in the shape of Pedalhounds.

On this occasion it was wetter than I’ve ridden it before and the roots covered with leaf litter were a real slippery challenge. The first drop-off had me slipping out just after the landing, and put my elbow in the dirt leaving the tell-tale marks of a failed downhill run on my arm for any imaginary commentators to mention as a reason for my slow time.

From then on it was a solid run, over the wet roots, hitting the drop offs and getting back to the carpark liberally sprayed with mud and ready to drive to a friends’ to abuse their shower before lunch.

Overall this wasn’t wet enough to put me off and a couple of days later I was all up for another winter ride.

This experience reminded me of some really important life lessons. Firstly, however quick you want to make your pre-ride wee due to the cold you should be careful of pushing everything too hard as you may get more than you bargained for, but that’s another story. More importantly, even if you leave home on a crisp, bright, frozen morning that does not mean the hills will be frozen and fast to ride. In fact there’s a chance that there will be snow on the ground and freezing water and mud to spray everywhere.

The Quantocks were white over and liberally soaked, making navigation and enthusiasm for riding both pretty tricky. The Triscombe DH tracks were all closed for logging work and so I bypassed that area and rode on to get up to a highpoint and enjoy the stunning views.

A post shared by @andy_c_11 on Feb 28, 2017 at 5:21am PST

After a clattering downhill I took some wrong turns in the untouched snow, cast around and finally tracked down the start of a coombe descent. This dropped me out of the snow but was still a soggy experience, dampening the excitement but still making it a fun swoopy flowing downhill to the stream. I climbed back up and cast out on some tracks that kept me below the snow, contouring around the hill and looking for some options to drop down the coombes and climb back up. This had mixed success but I found the occasional fun then pushed back up to the road. This was broken up with a pause for some definitely sketchy moments as a pack of fox hounds swarmed across the hill. It makes for a moment of question as the quiet is broken by dogs barking and a stream of them flow around the steep valley sides. The dogs had no interest in me and flowed past leaving me to climb back to the road and start turning the pedals up the tarmac.

At this point it started to rain. I climbed on into the wind and the rain turned to sleet. At around this point I decided I was over the ride with wet, cold feet and no hope of drying out. On the positive side I was wearing my new howies waterproof which was doing a stellar job at keeping out the weather as the rain and sleep pooled on the surface and kept my baselayers dry and warm, so I was getting the chance to do some sort of extreme product testing. Dry from the waist up at least I headed back to the car, feeling like I’d let myself down a little with the ride and with bailing out. At the car I attempted to keep clean bits that way as I got back into the warm. This was work that would be almost entirely undone as I met a tractor on a narrow lane and had to back the car into a muddy gateway.

Overall this was not the most successful riding trip ever, with bad riding on my part and bad behaviour from the weather. It has set me up for wanting badly to plan more trips as the weather gets better.

Making it out of Winter?

2017-02-21T11:30:00.000+00:00

After experimenting with several options to the North of Hertfordshire I finally pulled together a winterproof route that felt like it had the right balance between distance, a bit of fun and, most importantly, didn’t drop me into the depths of a field full of clay.

This feels like the culmination of several weeks’ work and it’s always good to get to the end of a project and have another good loop to ride in the future.

Having done all of this I realised I’d already got a pretty good winter ride in the books already, and so I went and rode that one as well. This one is the classic loop with a couple of bits that could get muddy but somehow never get too bad. Having abandoned it for a while with my Northern exploration I hadn’t experienced the work that’s going on here. First-up the overgrown riverside run has been cleared and opened up, which changes the feel of the track, but offers some less muddy options.

More dramatically a bridleway, and indeed a whole road, was closed by bridge repair. Large work equipment including huge cranes very effectively shut off the way through. I diverted along a footpath I’d discovered in the past. Carefully walking it to stay on the moral high ground (and manhandling the bike over the gates) I made it to the road and then down a track decorated by a Ford Fiesta lying in a ditch to join up with the usual trails.

So, having just found two solid winter options the weather decided I had achieved enough for that season and threw in a day off work that was definitely, suddenly Spring. The temperature on the dashboard was pushing over 16 degrees and the sun was streaming when I turned into the carpark at Swinley. Rolling out on a decidedly soft rear shock (I’d left the shock pump at home) I was in short sleeves again and excited to be carving into damp, grippy berms with tyres buzzing on the hard-packed surface. It could have almost been summer as I hit the tank trap section and then carried on round the 20 km of trails. Here, as well, there had been work, a couple of new drop-offs and berms had quietly arrived, perhaps to keep the red-graded trail status in place.

The soft shock meant grippy downhill runs but a slightly worrying thump as I dropped off the biggest features, but there’s a point where you just ride what you have and that’s the important bit of being out on the bike, not that everything runs right all the time.

Just maybe Spring is here to stay and the riding will only get dustier and better from here on out, but perhaps there’s a last sting in the Winter and it’s not the end of the cold and mud.

Winter-Proof

2017-02-08T11:30:00.000+00:00

Over the years I’ve searched for the ideal local winterproof ride. I’ve spent months mentally marking the map with all the sections where the clay gets so thick it turns the bike into a heavy immovable lump that I could barely drag across the fields. The result of getting this wrong has left me with a bike that I got home with an entire waste basket full of clay attached to it on more than one occasion. I’ve gambled on firmer lines on certain fields that turned out to have been given a going over by horses, and just meant another section to consign to summer riding.

This loop was one of those. I thought I had it nailed, but the risk I took did not pay off and I had to stop and even remove the chain device in order to get the bike running again. However, it did teach me another point to avoid and encouraged me to explore further find a way around. Not satisfied with just one new section I decided to approach this by riding a different combination of tracks. I couldn’t get away from my obsession with riding clockwise, and in order to try out some new sections I had to factor in a lot of road time, but I added new options to consider and made a step closer to that perfect winterproof ride. Admittedly one new section got dangerously close to being a clayfest, but my curiosity about it was satisfied. The real key was the diversion to the West that was a triumph of solid-based tracks that ran fast and firm, while staying happily muddy and hilly.

With some thought to minimise the boredom of the road sections and make the most of these firm tracks I’m looking forward to piecing together that ideal winter ride, probably just in time for the winter to end.

Mud and Ice (mostly Mud)

2017-01-23T11:30:00.000+00:00

After a flurry of activity to get me to 2017KM in 2016 I have been off the mountain bike for a few weeks. This has been down to a never-ending cold, but mostly to the weather. When it’s cold and raining it is hard to gather the enthusiasm to get back out into the mud.

This week I kicked off what some might call my 2017 campaign. With a heavy frost and bright sunshine it seemed like a good day to get wrapped up and go riding. I even banked on the thick clay on some of the fields on the ride to the East of Hertfordshire being frozen solid and ridable.

This was a major mistake.

The first few sections were beautifully frozen. Iced-over puddles thrillingly held my weight and creaked under the wheels. Mud was formed into hard-edged grippy ridges, like riding rocks in the middle of summer. I was smiling and cruising along battered by the ruts but skipping over the land.

This continued for a while and I elected to risk a section that should really only be reserved for the dry of the summer or a hard frost. There are a number of field crossings, skirting along the edge of ploughed up earth, sometimes cut up by horses and always based on clay. It started well and shady patches were frozen hard but more and more out in the winter sun the ground was thawing. All too soon the bike was clogging up. Huge lumps of clay jammed themselves into the crown of the fork and in between the seat- and chain-stays until the wheels stopped going round at all.

Climbing off and scooping huge handfuls of mud off the bike allowed maybe a half wheel turn before it all jammed up again and in the end I was reduced to pushing and dragging the bike along, now both about three times its usual weight and with tyres dragging through the mud rather than rolling over it. I was trying to find the small patches on the shady side of small ruts that stayed frozen and seeking out the icy puddles that either helped me drag the bike forward or broke through and added some water to release the clogging. This was not in the plan of a light skipping, sparkling ride.

There are two or three sections like this and they seemed to go on for ever before I found firmer land and was able to free the bike up and ride on, with my shoes widened by the clay and rubbing on the cranks. Sapped of energy through these sections I hung on to make it back, muddy and tired, to the car.

There are lessons to learn and they are either to go very early before the ground thaws at all, or to keep those paths for the summer and focus my winter riding on the firmer-based tracks all over the county. However, let’s not forget the fun of those moments riding through a sparkling frozen wonderland of the countryside with the low hazy winter sun meaning I could go back to sunglasses for a brief memory of the summer.

Chasing 2K - Happy New Year

2017-01-03T11:30:00.000+00:00

Approaching the end of November I happened to realise that across the year so far I had ridden over 1,800km on mountain bikes. On Strava I had only been recording the “proper” rides, ignoring the commutes or BMX rides that would have ramped things up even more. This posed an interesting challenge. Could I get to 2,000km by the end of the year, or was that a bit too far. I worked out I’d have to ride a solid 30 or so kilometres each week to get there, assuming I could ride every weekend. It was a pretty big ask and there were a number of weekends that were out of the question. When I could I started to fit in the rides, while trying to keep in mind that I was doing it for fun, not to hit the miles.

As December came around I kept it interesting, trying to find variations on rides I’ve done before. I set out to link a couple together, hampered by a major road awkwardly positioned in the middle of the loop.

On the plus side this ride was perfect for the winter, as the majority of the tracks involved had a firm base, mud sprayed around but the going remained possible all the way round, with no bogging down into the mud. It added 40-odd km to the total, which I extended a week later with a twin-set of classic Chilterns rides, bringing the bigger bike along to join the fun.

Adding another 60km in total these were old favourites, executed in fog which clung to the beech woodlands. It was muddy and slippery on chalk and roots, with visibility down to much less than it should be and atmosphere in buckets. Things were starting to look likely if I put in a bit of a final push.

That push started on Christmas day. I’ve traditionally ridden in the morning on this day every year and I extended the usual Mendip loop out a little. The usual fun and brilliance of Blackdown took me clattering down and round the valleys, then climbing and throwing the bike down a cheeky downhill. Dropping right from the top the extension heads into Cheddar down a track that is fast and rocky in the dry and like riding on ice in any type of damp as the limestone loses all grip. Of course it was wet and I clung on bravely to get down incident-free. Heading back up the gorge is always a tricky decision, with no option that doesn’t involve a big tough climb. I elected for the route set back from the edge, climbed mostly successfully and then cruised across the top to finish in a surprise sideways rain storm back at the car.

Around 20km on the board and a little break for Christmas, before I was back on the bike on the 27th at Cwm Carn.

I can only put the speed on the climb down to carb-loading in the previous couple of days, especially on turkey. I couldn’t resist taking the Pedalhounds DH option back down the hill, shortening the total distance, but keeping it fun, and putting 13km down.

My secret weapon was going to be several days riding in Wales to try and hit the total with the maximum of fun riding. On cold frosty mornings with the car thermometer reading in the negatives I rolled out, first, onto the trail centre of Nant Yr Arian. This is an interesting trail centre, the singletrack is good, but limited, with the real highlight being the Mask of Zorro section, and there is a brutal fireroad climb at the end to really make you feel the riding. The real beauty is the extension out into the wild. From the top of the centre a track takes you out into the hills. It takes mostly wide tracks around higher hills, along rocky trails that were frozen and beautiful in the low-angled bright winter sun.

It was a taste of wild mid Wales that would be a precursor to a return to the Mach 3 trail at Machynlleth on the following day. The last time I rode here I was out in the hills for 5 hours so it was going to be a big challenge. This time it was a far quicker, thanks to riding alone, and having an idea where I was going (with one navigation error). It remains a big day out, big long tough climbs, and steep loose descents are the order of the day resulting in a satisfying ride that feels remote for much of the time on the bike.

Rolling into the car park I was just 7km short of the overall target. I woke up with a cold and a plan to stop off at Shropshire on the way back East. Lemsipped up and parked in Carding Mill Valley I elected to go for a shortened version of what I’ve done before. This meant a hard climb up the road, a helter-skelter run down Minton Batch, then a fireroad ascent. At this point I had hit the total and started some other calculations. Could I make it to a very neat 2,016km for 2016? Watching the distance tip over I reckoned I’d be close, so stopped thinking about it and tipped over onto the hugely fun, rocky, fast but annoyingly busy with unobservant walkers, descent down Carding Mill Valley. Clattering down avoiding the hikers I still got some big grin factor and forgot the cold for a bit until I carved into the carpark and looked at the total.

There it was. 2,017.3km. A little over the perfect number, but worth a video.

Anti-Clockwise

2016-11-28T11:30:00.000+00:00

The days are resolutely getting shorter and riding bikes is a matter of finding daylight, avoiding as much mud as possible and trying not to get rained on. Riding local bridleways is still fun, but needs some added interest. One way to do this is to ride everything backwards.

I’m not talking about trick cycling but actually just going the “wrong” way round some local routes. As ever this isn’t as stupid as it sounds. Inevitably the first time you try a ride you will do it one way or the other. In my case I have a propensity to ride clockwise round a loop. I don’t know why, but as a default this just feels right in some way.

To mix things up I went and did a couple of my favourites anti-clockwise. You never know what you might find by doing this – maybe a climb is better as a downhill, or a skipping descent might be better as a climb. Maybe some corners work better the other way, and the overall feel and balance of the ride might be better.

Both rides seemed actually harder the wrong way, which might be down to the extra mud, or the balance of hills. There were bits that were fun and it’s good to see a different perspective. Perhaps due to the “wrong way round” nature of the riding I got some fast times on Strava, with less competition on every section, so perhaps that’s a secret to getting some cheeky KOMs. At the moment it’s getting dark at about 4pm so most rides end up with a bit of half an eye on the setting sun. This means riding through some of the most beautiful autumnal light, but adds a stressful element in terms of not ending up in the dark. Riding a track covered in leaf litter in the failing light is a serious challenge, but slightly safer than cruising the roads without lights as you try to make it back to the car.

Both are things I have been forced to do as the inevitable march of time and the rotating of the tilted world beat my attempts to ride over it.

Back to Winter Riding

2016-11-21T11:30:00.000+00:00

At the last second I dragged the bike back into shape, got my weight back to counter the fork-dive from the heavy front braking, and narrowly avoided the trees. This wasn’t a technical section, aside from the narrow gaps between the trunks but I was riding it like I’d never been on a bike before. My balance was all off, I couldn’t find any flow and I was fighting everything. It might have been the drive in the rain up to Cannock that had thrown me off, it might have been just the build-up of work stress, but most likely it was the brutal hangover I was still feeling into the afternoon.

Riding the Chase is perfect for a wet afternoon. The built trails drain well, apart from the puddles and the main challenge is a lack of grip on the wet hard-pack. I chased the light around the red trail, forgetting how long the route is. Cannock has some technical sections and needs concentration, as well as fitness to get up the surprising amount of climbing. I was lacking a bit of both but I fought through the day, managing to make a navigational error on a marked trail, which I think shows commitment to the lack of focus.

Occasional groups of riders slowed me down and I feel any PRs here slightly flatter me, possibly more due to the large number of punctures I got last time round, or some residual fitness behind the pain, but for all that it was a good ride, wet, fast, technical and just good to be on a bike as ever. I briefly flirted with the black diversion but had to decide it was beyond me for the day leaving me with a slightly embarrassing push back up to the red trail.

Sunday was time for something a bit bigger. It’s not too far beyond Birmingham to the Peak District where I had a choice to make. Often I have ridden the same routes here, sticking to what I know is good in the bigger hills, but I was tempted to try something new. There is another well-known route form Hope around the Ladybower reservoir that I’ve never ridden and I wanted to try it out. I was concerned it would be a disappointment but I needn’t have worried.

Climbing out of Hope was a muddy slog to start with, getting firmer, but wetter as I got higher. I enjoy a wet rocky climb on grippy gritstone and it delivered that in spades. At the top the track headed downhill on loose boulders and rocks, offering another challenge that briefly went a bit wrong as I hit my knee, but continued down with wide open views. I climbed again and then was directed onto the least inspiring-looking of the tracks. With fingers crossed I rolled out along this until it started to get decidedly more interesting with another rollercoaster descent to the road and the reservoir.

Some tourist-dodging along the road took me to the bottom of a brutally steep climb that I had to walk in sections as the missing fitness and skill from the previous day returned. At the top a beautiful contour in the dropping sun and temperature was the prelude to a rolling, boggy, rock-strewn downhill over heather moorland then into a valley and rock-slabs to the road. The ride ended on tarmac for longer than ideal, but the satisfaction of the big hills and hard descents remained through the last miles and back to the car where cake and dry clothes were waiting to help with the dark motorway drive home.

Making Weekend Plans

2016-10-26T11:30:00.000+01:00

What do you do when you get to a weekend and realise you have no plans. Well the best plan in my opinion is to go riding a lot.

I was at Heathrow early on Saturday morning, so the obvious first step was to head to Bracknell, which is surprisingly close to the airport. Based on this if you are planning a trip to the UK for some riding you could do a lot worse than rebuilding the bike when your flight lands and getting a first opportunity to ride it within a few miles of the runway. I arrived at Swinley not long after the gates opened and rolled out into the misty woods as the sun slanted and spattered through the trees.

There’s not much to say about Swinley that I’ve not written before, but the ride was a nice early morning loop before it got busy, the ground well drained but damp enough to be grippy, and the morning sun lighting up the fog was beautiful. As autumn settles in the section closed all summer for nesting birds was reopened as is the old first section of the red trail, now re-signposted as the end. This is a nice swoopy scar-ride that still probably works better as the start of the trail, not an afterthought.

After the ride around Swinley it was still early, and it seemed a shame to waste the day so after setting up beers and a bed for the evening, I jumped on the M4 with an excellent podcast for company and was soon changing tops and shoes in another carpark before attacking the rocky lift up onto the edge of Blackdown. The Mendips are getting muddy and are just on the edge of being ridable before the winter makes it worth switching to the road diversion. This time I went over the top, and ploughed through the deepening peat. On top of the hill I lined up for the flowing, rolling descent that always sits somewhere in the back of my head as a benchmark for fun.

Back at the car some gingernuts made an early lunch and I settled into being a non-cyclist for the rest of the day. As ever that’s not something that lasts long and on Sunday morning I woke up in a 6-year-old’s bed (the usual occupant was camping out on his brother’s floor) next to a cuddly stegosaurus with the need to go riding back in my legs. I got up, folded back the vehicle-themed duvet and got ready to get back on the bike.

Breakfast and an hour or so later I was changing again in the third carpark of the weekend, then kicked out onto the Cwmcarn Cafall trail. Tech issues and huge groups of slow riders blighted my early climb, but both were left behind for a bit on the switchbacks. I climbed clumsily through the remains of my beer and curry hangover and got caught behind another slow group who seemed oblivious to my stalling out behind them as the inched along the trail. A muttered passive aggressive comment was all I could manage as they eventually stopped in the middle of the track with their friends and I was free for a bit of riding at my own pace, luckily dropping one rooty section next to yet another guy pushing his expensive bike down.

After this frustration I decided to take a friend’s advice and head down the hill on the Pedalhounds DH track. I have to confess to having been intimidated by the DH rating in the past due to an underestimation of my ability or an over-exaggeration of the technical level that it represented, but this DH run was well within my capabilities and was a whole load of fun. Winding between trees, dropping steep chutes, rocks, berms and a series of fast drop-offs, the track drops fast and engagingly down the valley. It’s a shorter, faster way down than the rest of the Cafall trail but it’ll be hard in future to avoid taking that option again.

Oh and for the record I beat my friend’s time down the track.

Opening Your Options

2016-10-17T11:30:00.000+01:00

It’s all too easy to get in a bit of a rut with any route you ride regularly. Once you’ve gone to the effort of pouring over the map to plan it out and then riding it to find out that it works it’s tempting to keep repeating the same ride over and over again. This has advantages as you’ll navigate effortlessly round it and know what to expect, but it does mean you might have missed something great. Perhaps on rides further from home this is why it might make sense to look at what other people have done, or recommend, but on your local trails you have the opportunity to keep exploring.

Look at the map again. There are probably a few other options to take to link things together at some points. It’s worth trying them and you’ll end up with a stronger knowledge of all the ridable paths in the area and you’ll open up more variation.

I’m very guilty of this and since mapping out the ride from Watton-at-Stone I had only varied it once. Basically the ride looks like this:

It’s really not a bad ride and has a lot of good fast (albeit pretty flat) riding along the way. It shouldn’t take an irritation to change it, but there was one bit I hadn’t quite been happy with. A double-back up a field which is now ploughed over followed by lines across the middle of other fields, all with a tendency to get clogged with mud as things get damper, had the potential to ruin the ride. There was an obvious detour that could cut out that section and I decided to try it out before the conditions deteriorated too much into winter. For good measure there was an alternative end to the ride that I thought I might as well try.

The verdict? The first alternative route is much better and I think will stand up to winter a little better. To be honest it is generally better, adding in a rooty section, open field ridge, and a fast stony track to replace the slight slog before. We’ll call it now option A for the ride and retire the other version for use if I get bored or in the blazing middle of summer where carving through leg-whipping crops seems fun. The alternative ending has nothing much to recommend it over the existing option. It includes more tarmac and replaces field crossings with a stony track. In my head this is now classified as the wet-weather option and good to have in the back pocket for when the ideal option seems too clogged with mud.

I’ve come off the ride with a better understanding of the possible routes out there and that’s a good thing. The links I’ve ridden now also pull in ideas for shorter rides if they’re needed, escape routes, and other things to think about.

Wee Day Out

2016-10-11T19:26:00.002+01:00

Hey.

Watch this Danny MacAskill's Wee Day Out

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Going to the Limit

2016-10-03T11:30:00.000+01:00

Some days it’s worth finding an adventure in the relatively mundane. Regular readers will know that I’ve been riding a lot in Hertfordshire on the occasions I can’t get away further for more exciting riding. I’m in the process of turning some of that riding into route guides, available through this site, for people who have the same challenge to grab mountain biking close to North London. If you’re paying attention you may have noticed these appearing on the nav bar over to the right here. Look forward to more.

The more I rode these routes the more I wonder how far I can take them. This nagging idea has been kicking around in the back of my mind all summer. As I became aware of the impending end of the good weather I had been thinking more and more about the opportunity for adventure in the woods and fields of the county. In the end, almost on a whim, I set out on Sunday morning to ride the outer limits of the rides I’ve come to know well.

As a responsible mountain biker I would not exactly recommend my approach. Yes I was dressed appropriately and had a good bike for the ride but I’d been short of food to take along, so only had a couple of cereal bars in my bag. It also turns out I had neglected to pick up a multi-tool and may have also forgotten tyre levers or a chain tool so was woefully underprepared for any mechanical emergency. On the plus side again I had plenty to drink with me and I was riding well known tracks. I also had, for once, remembered my wallet so could potentially spend my way out of trouble if it came to that.

I had a vague idea of the distance – I’d done a couple of extended rides that pushed towards 60km out here and I had a blurry feeling that the total would add maybe 10km to this. This was a bit of an underestimate, as I started to realise as I reached the end of the first section. In my mental map of the area I had split out the ride into sections that related to individual rides I’d been doing, this segmentation would become more and more important as I went on, in order to keep myself going and not lose heart. At the junction to link the first ride to the second I checked my GPS watch. I had racked up a fast 20Km already, even as I tried to coach myself to slow down to save energy it was hard to resist the lure of known tracks in the dusty sunshine, and I was blasting along at a decent rate. I was still very much heading away from the car and so quick calculations started to make me realise I was in for a bigger ride than I expected. I resolved to not look at the watch again as I felt like knowing how far I’d gone with the knowledge of how far I had to go would be a tough psychological barrier to overcome.

I began to force myself to think no further than the next section of the ride, only looking to the next village at most, while setting some bigger landmarks to tick off. Much Hadham would be a first target but until there I would think no further than the next junction. I let each turn fall into my mind with the directions from there as they arrived and just settled to enjoy riding and to ride what was in front of me. This strategy worked well to keep me going and I rolled on through the changing landscape of Hertfordshire, pushing on as it tried unsuccessfully to rain. The variety of what I was riding struck me as I moved from the wooded south west to the open fields of the north and east. Some sections surprised me as they had slipped from my forward planning, but there’s a strange peace to be found in being committed to just riding.

With the long open top section ridden with a very helpful tailwind in place I crossed the major roads that head north from here and eventually dropped into Much Hadham. This represented another opportunity to cut the ride short, but whether through stubbornness or something else I found the bike always turning to keep going on the longer option. Climbing back out of the village I stopped to refuel as best I could with my limited provisions. My hydration pack was empty and I switched to a bottle along with the cereal bars, them remounted and rolled further out along field edges.

The next sunken lane gave me reason to think about the distance again as this was where I had dramatically punctured a few weeks before. I knew that this meant I was 20km out from Stansted Margarets. Starting to feel the miles in my legs and reminding myself that the car wasn’t parked there, but further on at Goffs Oak, this was where it started to get harder. From here there are also a succession of fields that are dried to ridged and rutted struggles. In addition I’d swung round into the wind that had been so helpful earlier.

A section of headwind put the first doubts into my head that I would make, but it also made me more determined that this ride wouldn’t beat me. I dropped into St Margarets and mentally double checked that the car wasn’t there. I also remembered the jelly babies in the glove box at this point, which made it harder to accept that the car was further on. After a brief break for a level crossing I kicked out of town and back onto scrappy bridleways to link up with a moment in the grounds of Haileybury College and then onto the dead-straight Ermine Street track which felt like starting to get back to the start. Each rise on the Roman road was starting to be an effort and I had the final climb in my head, knowing that I’d have to climb up through Wormley Wood to get back to the car.

That climb came all too soon on legs not fully recovered even on the previous descent. I dragged myself up it the slowest than I’ve ever climbed the path and emerged onto the road. Finally I looked down at my watch to see what the damage was. Just short of the car I was already clocking over 92km and I felt my tiredness was justified. I rolled back to the car. Sat on the floor and ate all of the jelly babies straight out of the glovebox to get the energy to drive home.

Just a bit gutted that I was 7.5km short of the 100…

e-Bike debate

2016-09-30T12:23:00.000+01:00

Just a quick update to point you to this excellent article on e-bikes from Pinkbike.

Parks, Ridges and Trails

2016-09-26T11:30:00.000+01:00

If you were paying attention you’ll know I went to Wales at the start of the “summer” in torrential rain.

Last weekend offered a chance to go back and ride in much better weather. Tagged onto a boys’ weekend away there was the chance of riding of all types; Bike park, natural, and trail centre.

First was Bike Park Wales. For the first time I consented to an uplift day and I have to grudgingly admit it was brilliant. I couldn’t help myself riding up once to settle the nerves and to get dialled in (or so I told everyone, the reality was I felt like it was cheating not to), but then we settled into a full day of being shuttled to the top of the hill before finding all the different ways down. On my first run I made the possible error of going straight for the only new red-graded run I’ve not ridden before, and got a crash out of the way early. From then it was a fun day of friends, friendly competition and a battering from the technical trails. After hours of riding we were all sore but happy, with Gethin woods living up to its reputation yet again.

Saturday was yet another beautiful day on the Gower and I was aching for the excellent mix of ridge-riding and seaside views that the peninsular offers. Sneaking away from a morning of football-golf I headed to the start of the ride, bashed the scab off a cut on my hand, pulled a glove on over the blood and threw my hangover at the first steep climb.

From here there were glorious ridgetop cruises, hidden technical dips, and a brilliant track across the top of Rhossili beach that showed off the best of the Welsh coastline. In essence everything that can be brilliant about Wales in the sunshine.

On Sunday my hangover was too big to even contemplate the bike, and it seemed nice to be sociable, but that meant I was excited for Monday and Afan. The first loop here was a rerun of the May trip, with a trip out on Penhydd. I can confirm that this is much, much better when you can see more than 20 metres and don’t have freezing rain being driven into your ear. It seems like quite a simple trail, with climbing largely dealt with on fireroads and then rolling descents that flow together, eventually dropping you onto a more technical final section.

With that loop knocked out in an hour I drove up the road to Glyncorrwg to head out on Blade. I had forgotten this track’s ability to find more and more climbing when you think there can be no more. It uses the long climb for Whites Level and then just seems to continue to climb. There are, in fact, a few downhill sections in the middle but it leaves you with the impression you have climbed solidly for all but the last 5km or so. Looping round the area where new wind turbines are being erected adds to the feeling of seekingout the climbing. Those last km are on a steep rocky tumbling drop back to the valley bottom. With my legs feeling the previous rides and my hands and arms still carrying the battering from Bike Park Wales it was a ride that left me more than satisfactorily tired, back at the car scoffing jelly babies.

It would be impossible for me to drive back from Swansea without being tempted by the riding on the way and so Tuesday saw me turning off the M4 towards Cwm Carn for a last hit. Recently I’ve almost exclusively ridden Cafall here, but I decided to go back to the older Twrch trail. It’s a testament to the time I’ve spent on the newer trail that all of the areas cleared of trees since I was last up there look established and mature as open land, rather than scarred by the deforestation. The climb is tough and long, but like remembering an old friend (maybe one who likes to stab you in the leg with a fork for fun), and the pay-off starts with Airstream that flows across the top of the hill in a series of swooping jumps and berms. From here it’s all fun until it’s abruptly brought to an end by a brutal diversion down the hill, missing a trip over the shoulder of the hill due to forestry works.

My emotions back at the car were mixed. I felt a bit cheated that the trail was cut short and sad about the end of a few days of good riding. I sat for a moment eating my cheese sandwiches and debated Cafall as a consolation. With my parking running out and my legs suggesting I didn’t have another big climb in them, I loaded up and swept back towards the motorway trying to focus on all the riding over the long weekend and the best of what South Wales can offer, at least until Newbury where the threat of London loomed large again.