Four nights of fencing, one night of dancing, and a tough
session on the
U/W this week, but the weather was good, the day was free,
and a unicycle ride was compulsory. The legs would have to
dig deep one more time.
I don't think I've had the MUni out since my chin-splitting
accident around New Year time, as the 28 has tended to be my
uni of choice for the last few months.
I lovingly throw the still-muddy Pashley into the back of
the car and I set off to Sherwood Forest, where Robin Hood
made Marian.
I park in Deer Dale, the theory being that this will save
the local halfwits the trouble of moving my car before
torching it, then I leap onto the MUni and wobble off. How
humiliating! He who did once be-ride the narrow wood like a
colossus can hardly balance, let alone steer! The unfamiliar
150 mm cranks and the wide soft tyre combine to make me
weave like a freighter dodging U-boats.
At the first opportunity, I turn off onto a narrow woodland
trail, and soon become red faced and breathless - the forest
floor is deep in leaves and undergrowth, and I'm having to
read the trail in Braille. Soon I come to a dead end, try to
turn, and UPD ingloriously. I UPD twice more in the short
ride back to the main trail.
From there, I decide to ride some easy stuff for a bit in an
attempt to get back into riding the 26. It seems to be
pulling to the left all the time, and I can't keep my hand
on the handle for long. This is embarrassing! I turn onto
another side track and ride for a short distance before UPD
number 4 - and so far I've not met anything that looked like
an obstacle!
I decide to check the pressure in my tyre. It does seem a
bit soft. Hmmm. I put in 50 pumps worth of air. It still
feels a bit soft. 25 more pumps and the tyre feels a bit
more like it. I mount and ride away as straight as a thing
with no bends, kinks or curves on it.
Say what you like about tyre pressure and hopping, I have
always found that a tyre you can only just squeeze a bit
with thumb and forefinger is about right. You may lose some
cushioning on drops (I seldom drop) but you protect your
rim, and the uni handles better.
So, from here, I wander at will through the forest,
alternating between wide hard packed tracks and narrow
slimy single track. I suddenly find myself at the "off road
course" where local mountain bikers have dug or built earth
ramps and obstacles. I ride confidently up to the first
obstacle and promptly UPD. On a second attempt, I make it
to the top, then fall off the side. On a third attempt, I
make it to the top and pick my way elegantly over the three
small humps before descending the steepish ramp down to the
forest floor.
Most of the obstacles are either too high or too steep for
me to ride up, but I manage to find a small circuit with
three or four technically challenging bits that I can ride
with a bit of determination. I look round to see that a
mountain biker has arrived and is watching me. With
commendable nonchalance, I ride a complete circuit of all
the difficult bits that I think I can ride, and I manage
them all without a stumble. I cruise to a halt next to the
mountain biker to be rewarded with the comment that I must
be fit to ride one of those things.
The mountain biker seems weak on conversation, and I'm out
of breath, so I do a couple more obstacles then sit down to
rehydrate - or "have a drink of water", as we used to call
it in the old days. The mountain biker sets off and rides
over the more difficult obstacles. There he is, with about
96 gears, disc brakes, suspension front and rear, and more
technology than a small motorbike, and he's doing stuff that
I'd attempt on my granny's bike - in fact, I've attempted
most of it on my unicycle.
From there, I follow the track into what I think of as the
"cresta run"
- a narrow winding path, with only a few humps and hollows,
but with vegetation crowding in from both sides. The track
is so deepl;y rutted that it's like riding at the bottom
of a U shaped ditch, so concentration is required. I make
it with only one UPD.
Then I pop out onto the main trail and see the start of the
"Off road cycle trail, difficult terrain" and ride past a
bemused mountain biker who looks like he'd be happier in a
beige cardigan, who says, "You'll break your neck on that
thing down there."
So, of course, I ride the whole length of the course without
a UPD. This is particularly important because three mountain
bikers (who look like they'd be happier eating bananas and
sitting in a tree) follow me, singing a poor rendition of
Fucek's "Entry of the Gladiators". (You know: dit dit diddle-
iddle dit dit da da...). I end up riding a sequence of
obstacles harder than I've ever managed before, without a
single UPD.
The bikers overtake me. One says, "Respect for that." One
says, "He's lost a wheel." The other says, "He must have had
a really strange dream one night."
I carry on and get to one of the ascents I normally find
difficult. It is packed mud, topped with pine needles, and
with a difficult turn half way up. I once stalled half way
up, but managed to crest the hill at the third attempt. This
time, I make it quite easily. I allow myself a Tim Henman-
style clenched fist and a little yelp of "Yes!".
By now my legs are well on the way out. I'm dripping with
sweat. I need a coffee and some calories. I find my way to
the Surprise Cafe, fitting in one more difficult section
(showing off to a group of mountain bikers who were resting
by the trail). I stop for coffee and a Mars Bar. It's cold
when you stop. It's still March, and few places are as bleak
as the English Midlands on a bleak day.
Recharged and invigorated, I set off in an unusual direction
from the cafe, and follow a variety of trails before finding
myself on a horrible one.
I have a theory that trails have a cadence. I don't know
what causes it, but most paths have ups and downs and curves
which seem to fit a particular rhythm. It could be the
spacing of the trees, and the position of their roots; it
could be the firmness of the soil; it could be my
imagination. However, experience tells me that some narrow
winding undulating paths DO fit a unicycle, and others
DON'T. This one doesn't. Every root is in just the wrong
place for the power stroke of the pedal. Every turn
coincindes with a sudden change of gradient. Every hollow is
of almost exactly the same radius as the wheel, so that it's
easy to stall. It's horrible.
Gentle reader, I confess I resorted to foul and
inappropriate language. Forgive me.
As I sit and regain my composure, my phone rings. A friend
is lost and needs directions. I do what I can to help, then
promise to ring her again when I get back to the car and
have a road atlas. I leap aboard the unicycle and ride about
a mile and a half back to the car at enormous speed - I
could never let down a damsel in distress, even if she does
have her husband and two kids with her.
In fact, this long fast ride back to the car is some of the
best riding I've done all day, fast and smooth, over varied
and difficult terrain. I end a hard and challenging ride on
a high note - except that there's no road atlas in the car,
and when I ring my friend, she's found the place she's
looking for anyway.
8.44 miles. Not the longest ride ever, but I rode some stuff
I've never ridden before, and astounded some bikers, so it
was a good ride. Chin intact and no stitches required. ;0)
--
Mikefule - Roland Hope School of Unicycling
So many pedestrians tell me I've lost a wheel.
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