As my original plans for Saturday came crashing down around me, I
re-read Mikefule's Dartmoor threads and the urge hit with a vengeance.
Just under an hour later, having swapped the smoothness of the Big Apple
tyre for some 29er knobbly goodness and changed to longer cranks, I set
off for the Meldon Dam car park on the north east edge of Dartmoor.
In hindsight it wasn't a very good starting point. The excellent views
of the massive dam and an impressive railway viaduct visible to the
north didn't make up for the fact that this was one of the more remote
corners of an already remote area, and what paths there were were very
hard going. In the space of an hour I'd walked more than I'd ridden, up
an unrideably bumpy, grassy and steep "track" which gradually faded into
nothing, leaving me pushing the uni though tussocky grass up to Yes Tor.
I discovered afterwards that this was the place that Mikefule mentioned
turning back on reaching; a wise decision.
Finally I returned to civilisation - well, a half-decent track - at Yes
Tor, and stopped to mentally regroup. Some malt loaf and a map check
left me ready to find out whether bringing the 29er was a good move or
not.
After the first hundred metres I was really missing the wider tyre of
the muni. The track was grassy with huge rocks in; too many to ride
round, and a little too large to ride over with the limited give of the
2.1" tyre. It was slow and exhausting guiding the 29er around every
little bump, but then the track turned to drop into the valley and
everything changed.
Here the grassy track stopped, to be replaced with a surface of small
gritty rocks with larger lumps here and there. The 29er came into its
own here; the large wheel ate up the smaller rocks, and the slalom
course around the larger protruding rocks brought to life what would
have been a rather dull descent on the muni.
The track swooped downhill to a fork where I turned south along an
uphill track. The surface changed on a regular basis here; from small,
bedded in rocks (glad I brought the 29er!) to large, loose ones (dammit,
should have brought the 24...). Line choice was vital; stay on the
smoother, hard-packed rocks or a UPD was only seconds away. The climb
was mentally exhausting as well as hard on the legs.
The greater vulnerability of the rim on the 29er over the muni was
apparent on the next descent. There were lines of rocks across the track
to channel water; on the muni there would be little problem in ploughing
over them, but on the 29er careful steering around the edges or between
two rocks was vital. I missed one; aiming for a gap little wider than
the tyre I misjudged, heard the rim go CLANG and was launched forward.
No damage done, but I can imagine this place being good for pinch-flats
and damaged rims.
The road turned from its southerly direction to the furthest point of my
ride, and I headed down a track towards Oke Tor. The track dropped into
a valley, crossed a ford then climbed out the other side; here a muni
would have come into its own. The descent was fantastic; the track
itself was smooth, but was littered with large rocks and different lines
as it split into ruts at different heights. On the 29er the little drops
were jarring and I never quite knew whether the next one would see the
wheel fold underneath me, but it took no time at all to reach the ford
at the bottom.
It took me a while to cross; a cow and calf were standing in the water
on the far side. I couldn't ride through in the hope that they would
move; and every time I moved towards the stepping stones the cow looked
a bit too defensive for my liking. Eventually they decided that the
crazy man with the funny bike wasn't going to leave them alone and they
wandered off, leaving me free to continue. They'd proved their point; we
all knew they weighed considerably more than I do, even after most of a
malt loaf.
Aware of the growing complaints from my legs I dropped down to the
military road and followed some fairly fast tracks northwards towards
Okehampton. It had gotten busy since I set off; I didn't hear a single
"lost a wheel" comment but there were an awful lot of people in sheer
disbelief that anyone would ride such a silly contraption out in the
wilds.
The last few miles of the ride took me back to the car along the nice
and flat cycle track next to the railway. This must be a popular spot
for irregular cyclists to have a gentle pootle out in the country; even
with 150mm cranks and tired legs I was the fastest thing moving. The
downside of other cyclists is that chasing them is fun; but on passing
them you've then got to keep going so they don't catch you again. This
means you catch the next lot a few hundred metres ahead, and then the
next... my legs were screaming for me to stop and I had no more malt
loaf to silence them, but my dumb ego kept me flying forwards.
My only proper ballistic crash of the day was, ironically, about three
metres from the car. The car park was on quite a steep hill, and
required a tight turn to get to the car; the loose gravel, sharp turn
and too much speed saw the wheel slide away from under me, sending me
flying through the air.
In actual fact the speed and surface had nothing to do with it; the real
reason was the group of thirty or so people having a picnic in the
middle of the carpark who had all turned to watch. Still, it could have
been worse; had I not crashed I probably wouldn't have got a sausage
from their barbecue... 🙂
Cor blimey my legs ached the morning after. In the last few weeks I've
only been out on the bike a couple of times; either the bike uses
different muscles in the legs or unicycling is ten times the workout of
the bike, because I haven't felt this stiff for ages. What doesn't help
is that when climbing hills of that just-right gradient on the 29er it's
easier to go faster and keep going than on a bike, but they always get
me back the next day.
Phil
--
phil - ex-studenty type
Good, bad... I'm the guy with the Cattle Prod.
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