Ahead of me is the hill that leads up to the back of the waterski lake.
This is where I had my low speeed fall on the Coker a few years back,
and chipped a bone in my wrist. I've never tried it on the 700c, but I
now decide to go for it. The hill is not steep, but the track consists
of two wheel ruts, presumably made by a Land Rover. In places, the
ruts are bare baked mud, and in others, they are concealed by deep and
uneven grass. There are plenty of places to go wrong, but I take it
steady, pick my route carefully, take the higher option whenever
possible to earn gravity karma, and soon I am near the top - and I UPD
for no good reason at all!
Three or four years ago, when all my riding was on the 26" Pashley, I
used to hate falling off on here because I could never remount. The
combination of a slight uphill, uneven ground, and a narrow track was
too much for me. Now I simply leap onto the 700c, ride past the bit
where I UPDed and turn right towards the waterski lake.
This brings me out onto the top of the small hill that ovelooks the
lake, and I ride carefully down, past the dog that bounds towards me,
and then pass slowly and courteously between the people who are
queueing to waterski. I think they just take me for granted, because I
can't remember the last time I had a comment from any of the skiers.
Next, the railway-sleeper bridge over the ditch. I have dropped the
Coker here a few times, coming perilously close to severe injury. The
neater 700c wheel just skims across it and the danger is gone almost
before I notice it. Then there is a section of gravel and ballast
road, where I have to breathe in as I pass a car travelling the other
way. It's a sort of compliment when they don't give you a wide berth,
isn't it?
More tarmac, past a fishing lake, then out onto the public road, with
the working area of gravel pit to my left. I get my head down a bit
and pedal as fast as I can. I see speeds up to about 13 mph (20 kph)
on the GPS, which is a bit disappointing, but is comparable to what I
achieved on 110s on the same wheel a few days ago.
To my right is Buggy Land - or the remains thereof. Buggy Land appears
to have closed, and there is a planning application notice on the gate.
Buggy Land was a place where you could hire quads and those little 4
wheel drive 2-stroke trikes and race round a rough muddy track. I
remember going there when it first opened and hitting my head on a low
branch when I "got big air" on a trike. The tracks are now sad and
abandoned, so there is only one thing for it: I've ridden them before
on the Coker and the Pashley. Now it's time to try it on the Road
Razor!
The smaller track is easy: just an oval with some loose gravel on the
bend, and a slightly rutted surface. The larger track is more
difficult, with one steeply-banked curve. I ride as high as I can into
the curve then try to swoop down like a pursuit cyclist, and suddenly I
am running. I walk back to the uni, chuckling, and remount and
immediately UPD again.
Investigation reveals that there is a baked wheel rut, completely
concealed by a flat layer of fine dusty sand. The eye sees smooth, the
wheel feels a hard edge, and... BANG! Armed with this knowledge, I
remount and ride carefully over the rut, then do another couple of laps
for good measure. In fact, the rough gravelly track back to the road
is more challenging, but that's not the point.
As I climb back over the locked metal gate, I see an entrance almost
directly opposite me. I know it leads through to some flooded gravel
quarries, where fishermen sometimes fish, where at least one hermit
lives rough in a shelter in the woods, where I used to go swimming as a
teenager, and where, many years ago, my future wife and I were
disturbed by several of my school mates at a particularly intimate
moment. I decide to go in and mount up again.
Soon I am riding around the lake. This lake is very different in
character. It apears much more natural than it did, er... a quarter of
a century or more ago... and the edges of the lake are thick with bull
rushes. What passes for a path is a barely trodden route through long
wavy grass with occasional random thistles and nettles, and there is no
easy way down to the waterside.
Eventually, the nettle density exceeds the defensive capabilities of my
shorts and I have to turn back. That's a pity, because this is really
nice riding, the soft seed heads of the grass are carressing my lower
legs, the birds are singing, and the blackberries are hanging
temptingly on the briars. Nature's bounty - and I stop to eat a few
before deciding on my next move.
To my right is a large flat field with a few sheep in it, and a massive
lake. Like all the other lakes round here, it is a flooded gravel pit,
but flooded more recntly, so that the banks are not overgrown. I chuck
the uni over the fence then climb after it and ride over to the
lakeside where I simply sit and watch the birds. There are plenty of
mallard, of course (famous for their blue eggs, you know) and some
grebes,as well as the occasional coot or moorhen. I turn and behind me
in the field, Canada geese are grazing. In the distance, over the
lake, I see pairs of birds fluttering rapidly. They appear black and
white and fromt his far away look disconcertingly like puffins. They
aren't of course. Later, at home, I identify them as tufted ducks.
This is turning out to be one of the nicest rides I've had for ages.
The only problem is I'm now hot and dehydrated, and I have no Camelbak.
The ride has been longer than planned, and I have to tear myself away
from the calm of the lake and ride back over the field towards the
fence. I chuck the uni over and climb after it, then ride the shortest
way back to the road.
From there, it is a simple matter of following the tarmac strip back to
the main entrance of the Water Sports Centre, cutting through to the
lakeside and riding round back to the car. I finish with a flourish,
riding along a couple of the pontoons, and up a couple of grassy
slopes, then all too soon I am back at the car. If I'd had water, I
may well have ridden for another hour.
The 700c (x 28 mm) on 125mm cranks is a nice cross country unicycle.
It is a very different philosphy from riding the MUni. On the MUni,
it's "look what the MUni can do with this big tyre." On the 700c it's
more a case of, "Let's see what I can do if I try." Of course, that
does not mean that the 700c will be my weapon of choice on my next
assault on Dartmoor's rock and rubble-strewn paths!
Details from the GPS:
Max speed: 13.1 mph (21 kph)
Average speed: 6.5 mph (10.45 kph)
Total distance: 5.16 miles (8.3 km)
Total time: 47:37
There are two deliberate general knowledge type factual errors in
there. PM me if you want to play. Keep quiet if you don't.
--
Mikefule
I don't believe there's a conspiracy, because they want us to believe
there is
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