Two easy "deliberate mistakes" in this one. Usual rules: PM me if you
spot 'em. Please don't give the game away in a reply on this thread.
I'll post the correct answers in a couple of days.
Recently, I bought a KH24 MUni, and that has taken the Holy Roller's
place in the team. The Road Razor (700c x 28 mm tyre) has been
re-geared for versatility, with 125mm cranks, and is performing well.
When I ordered the 125 mm cranks, I ordered two sets, different sorts,
thinking I could choose the best for the 700c, and would always have a
use for the others.
So, the Koxx 125mm cranks went onto the Holy Roller, the idea being to
make a fast cross country uni, more versatile than the Road Razor, and
less plodding than the KH24.
So, here's the set up: a rather heavy Pashley 26 inch frame, with the
original Pashley wheel, a Maxxis Holy Roller 2.4" tyre, and 125 mm Koxx
cranks.
I park at Sherwood Pines and take a few minutes to set up the GPS and
make sure my Camelbak is properly packed with Soreen and a puncture
repair kit. I mount and ride a few metres. The seat is a touch too
high so I stop and adjust it. Then I remount and set off across the
car park, weave between the picnic tables causing startled but amused
comment, wiggle through the wiggle gate and then I'm onto a long
straight track through the forest.
The uni feels light and fast, scooting along with very little input
from me. It has a bit less directional stability than the 700c,
probably because of the extra Q factor caused by the angled cranks, and
partly because the tyre is wider. On the other hand, it is much
happier just rolling over patches of loose ballast that would take
great care on the skinnier tyre.
Down the hill, not hitting any great speed. The GPS is showing figures
around 8 - 9 mph (up to about 15 kph) but I'm still in the warm up
stage of the ride.
Half a mile down, there's another wiggle gate, then I cross a
hard-surfaced track and aim for an uphill track opposite. The junction
is very sandy, I take it too casually, the wheel sinks and bogs down
and I UPD. Cursing, I walk past the sand then remount and UPD again
within 10 metres. Some days, the legs and brain work well together,
but apparently not today.
I remount, focus my attention, and ride up the hill. The ground is
sometimes gravelly, sometimes packed sand and mud, and sometimes soft
sand. The challenge is to pick the best route, to anticipate, and to
plan. I make it to the top with some pride regained. I ride past a
small pond with bulrushes and lilies and zigzag past some of those
stupid people who, confronted with a unicycle, simply stop and stand in
your way in slack-jawed amazement.
I turn right along a hard-packed forest track, then left, and down a
long gradual hill towards a gate. Here I need to dismount. I go
through the gate, then ride about 50 metres tot he next gate and
dismount again.
The next section is very familiar: a long drag up a gradual hill. The
ground is hard, but with some loose ballast. To my right is pine
plantation, with small pines all of uniform height and in straight
rows.
Near to the top of the hill, for no readily apparent reason, I UPD
again. Whether it's physical or mental tiredness I don't know, but
things aren't working well today.
I veer off to the left along a rougher track. Usually, this section is
rideable with care, but today it is all chewed up and loose as if it
has been used as a special stage in a car rally. This is entirely
possible, as the Network Q rally sometimes uses this area of forest. I
end up on the wrong ridge between the ruts, fail to cross the rut and
dismount again. Instead of riding the tricky little junction as I had
planned, I am forced to walk for a short distance.
From here, I cruise for a short distance under a canopy of oak,
chestnut and beech, the wheel almost silent on a carpet of oak needles.
I have a choice of the familiar route to the right, or exploring to
the left. I turn left, hesitate as I view the path ahead, hit a twig
and do a full length rolling in the dirt dismount. Soft gritty soil
goes between my wrist guards and my hands. I swear.
I scout ahead on foot for a moment while I regain my composure. The
next bend, only 10 metres away, leads to a descent that few people
would attempt. I pick up the uni and climb down a gritty sandy slope
to a disused railway line. Some people obviously ride this way as the
gap between the rails has been filled with soil and bears the imprints
of motorbike tyres.
I climb up the other bank then remount. There is a path that zigzags
between the trees, and on each bend the soil is thrown up into a bank.
As Inspector Jacques Cousteau might say, "It is a berm." This is
really difficult stuff to ride. The ruts are deep enough to threaten
pedal strikes - although the short cranks help here - and the soil on
the edge of the ruts is soft enough to make side slips likely. The
trees are now mainly old and untidy pines, with sharp broken twigs at
about eye level, too close to the path for comfort. I UPD many times.
By the time I've ridden half a mile of this, I'm totally demoralised.
My cranks are too short, I'm in the wrong gear. Short cranks are good
for fast smooth flowing riding, but the track is so winding and the
surface so unreliable that I can't ride fast. At low speed, it is easy
of the wheel to stop suddenly against a bump, or when it sinks in
softer soil, and the cranks aren't long enough for me to overcome the
obstacle. Instead, what happens is that the wheel stops, I push down
hard on the pedal, the wheel says still and I catapult myself out of
the saddle with the force of my failed down stroke.
Several times, I stop and sit down to regain my composure. This
situation is familiar - but from about 4 years ago, when I first had
the Pashley, and went out and bit off more than I could chew. With
repeated UPDs and failed mounts, fatigue sets in and riding becomes a
slog. I swallow my pride and walk for a while until I can see a clear
run of reasonable path, then I remount and ride the path back out of
the trees and onto the wider forest road.
I decide to get some distance under my wheel, to regain my confidence,
so I ride for a mile or so on easy tracks, then I see an interesting
diversion down a hill and make the turn. The path is soft green grass,
barely trodden, and the riding is quite easy. Somewhere I can hear a
cuckoo - one of nature's least imaginative songsters - and in the
distance I can hear the chain saw-buzz of scrambler bikes. (It's a
Sunday, so it's unlikely to be the scrambler bike-buzz of chain saws.)
I pause to take a rather posed photograph of myself, then remount and
ride to the bottom of the hill. I am temporarily disorientated and
turn left along a path that winds between bracken. I duck under a
couple of low tree branches, then do another projectile dismount.
Grumpily, I turn round and ride back, deciding that I am clearly on the
wrong machine for today's ride.
A couple of hundred metres later, I find a cut through to a path I
recognise. My confidence is a bit low, and I walk up a gravelly hill
that I would normally ride, then I steer in the general direction of
the car park. I'm mostly on familiar paths, sometimes under oak,
chestnut and beech, sometimes under pine, and I meet no one until I
reach the main forest road again. Here I meet a family group all on
mountain bikes, standing deciding what to do. Why is it that mountain
bikers spend so much time standing blocking the trail and deciding what
to do? As I ride past, the mother comments, "Oh, we could do with one
of those." This at least has the merit of originality.
Up the long hill, and then turn right. The Holy Roller with 125s is
good at this: skimming along easy but rough tracks. Trouble is, I want
to ride the more interesting stuff to each side, but I know I won't
have the energy. Maybe I should change to 150s, which will still make
it "faster" than the KH24, and more capable than the 700c.
At some stage, I turn left, and find myself on an unfamiliar path. I
reach the brow of a hill, where a young couple on mountain bikes have
stopped to decide what to do. The young woman makes a friendly comment
as I ride past, and, being male, I feel good about myself for at least
the next five minutes. Pathetic, isn't it?
The period of feeling good for myself takes me down a long and variable
descent, with gravel, mud, sand and grit. The tyre just rolls over it
all (down hill is 10 times easier than uphill, even when the hill isn't
that steep) and I feel like a cool rider by the time that I get to the
bottom.
As I turn right, two lads on mountain bikes stop to watch me ride past,
but make no comment. So far, I haven't had a single "Where's your
other wheel?" or equivalent comment all day!
--
Mikefule
I don't believe there's a conspiracy, because they want us to believe
there is
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