A bit of an epic, but I don't get to ride much these days. There are
three deliberate mistakes for you to spot here. They are all of a
general knowledge nature - that is, you don't have to be a unicyclist,
or a forum regular to spot them. If you want to play the game, please
PM me the answers. Please do not post the answers, or any reference to
them, in the thread. You may not want to play (fair enough) but please
don't spoil the game for those who do. I will post the correct answers
and a list of winners in about 2 days, when the flood of responses
dries up.
Thanks.
As the bluesman said, I woke up this morning...
The sky was fairly clear, there was no frost, but it was blowing half a
gale. Across the valley, I could see whole trees in motion. I had
promised myself a unicycle ride this weekend, but yesterday had been
filled with errands and traffic jams, and this morning the wind made me
feel very half-hearted about the whole unicycling thing. Any form of
cycling in a strong wind is tiring and no fun.
I considered where to ride, and found another problem: route fatigue.
All the accessible places, I have ridden to death. I've written them
up so many times that some of you lot could draw maps.
Breakfasted and coffeed up to the eye balls, I felt more positive. The
only option was to go to Sherwood Forest, where the trees would provide
shelter. That meant the MUni: a standard KH24, with the 3" tyre and
165 mm cranks. I pumped the tyre up to about 20 psi and threw my gear
in the car. No GPS: I hadn't seen it for a while. No doubt it was
under some socks on the bedroom floor or something. Still, no gauges
means no numbers, and no numbers means no pressure, so the
unipsychology would be good.
I arrive at the Forest Pines car park to find notices all over the
place relating to a British Heart Foundation charity ride. As I
prepare myself for my own ride, I notice signs showing that part of the
forest is closed to people not on the ride. There is a huge inflatable
"Start" gate over near the café. I do so hate it when other people
want to enjoy themselves and then get in my way in the process!
I mount and ride through the car park. A young girl is wobbling along
on her mountain bike. Like so many cyclists these days, she seems
surprised to find that every so often she actually has to put some
effort into making it move. She keeps to the bare minimum, pedalling
about one lazy pedal stroke every few metres. She sees me but shows no
awareness of the fact that I might want to use the path, and it takes
some skilful manoeuvring on my part to avoid a collision as I aim for
the start of the trail.
Once on the trail, I find myself riding against the flow of those who
are finishing the BHF ride (or the first lap?). That means I pass a
hell of a lot of inexpertly ridden bicycles: pedal, pedal, freewheel,
dawdle, wobble, pedal... Here's me on one wheel and apparently I'm the
only one with the brains, the skills and attention span to avoid a
collision. Perhaps their faith in my ability to keep out of their way
is a sort of compliment, but somehow I doubt it.
Early in the ride, I pass a small boy earnestly riding his mountain
bike as his mother wobbles along behind him. He looks up at me, open
mouthed, then contorts his face into an archly quizzical expression.
He says just loudly enough for his mother to hear: "That's funny?"
There is an implied request for agreement in his tone. This is why
there's no hope for the human race: the child is clearly intelligent,
but already, aged about 6, he has been taught to ensure that his
private thoughts on even the most trivial subjects are validated by
seeking the approval of those whose opinions he perceives to be
reliable. Social constructionism in action.
Soon I turn off onto a quieter track. Tall straight pine trees grow in
a plantation to my right and left, their trunks virtually featureless,
with all their foliage in the top 20% or so of their height. Pine
trees are the McDonalds of the tree world: uninteresting, virtually
identical, but a simple cheap option for those who want the product
quickly and aren't too worried about the quality.
The trail beneath my wheel is carpeted with pine needles so my progress
is almost silent, although there are occasional patches of crunchy sand
and gravel. This area of the forest is not particularly good for wild
life. I do see the occasional grey squirrel. In the tree tops, I
catch an occasional glimpse of a bird, too high up to identify
accurately. They are either sand martins or the closely related pine
marten. It could be either in a sandy pine forest!. Other than that,
it's just the occasional crow or pigeon.
Over the next mile or so, I cross the route of the British Heart
Foundation ride several times. This always amazes me: go onto the
boring wide trail with a good hard surface, and you find as many
mountain bikes as you like, nearly all with suspension and 18 or more
gears. Turn off onto the narrower, rougher, more interesting tracks,
and all you find is just the one unicycle - and that's the one you're
riding. So many people these days seem to think that operating the
equipment is the same as doing the activity. I'm not sure whether they
have no imagination at all, or whether they have more than I do,
because I can't imagine how what they're doing is fun.
A few minutes later, I am away from the hordes of cyclists, and
climbing a gradual slope of sand, gravel and packed mud, reaching one
of the highest points in this part of the forest. The trees here are
more mixed, with some oak, some beech and some chestnut. The trail
becomes more winding and less predictable, with sections of undulating
hard mud, sections of rutted grassy track, and some wider ballasted
trails. Sometimes, strands of briar lay across my way, and I rely on
the thickness of the tyre to protect the tube.
On one section, I find myself riding along a field boundary, with what
looks like a root crop to my left, rutted grass beneath me, and the
forest to my right. Two crows swoop over the field, silhouetted
momentarily against the clear blue sky.
Then I find a fun descent. It's not steep or long, but it is twisty,
and there are roots across the path. I love this sort of descent:
it's easy enough that I will only UPD if I do something stupid, but it
feels hardcore because the movement is non stop, with small obstacle
after small obstacle.
--
Mikefule
The journey's always easy when you've got no place to go,
No trouble when you've nothing much to do
When you've left some place behind, just to see what you might find,
And you're travelling just to get to somewhere new.
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