I fancied a MUni ride today for a change, and drove up to Black Rocks at
Cromford in Derbyshire. Here, the High Peak trail (a former railway
line converted to a linear leisure facility) passes on its way to join
the Tissington Trail.
In the carpark, I make a few adjustments to the MUni, tightening a bolt
here and a nut there. Then I decide the tyre is a bit soft. I pump it
up, and find that the little threaded bit in the end of the Presta valve
is bent. every time I try to put the dust cap back on, it pushes the
end of the valve in and the air comes out. With care, and at the risk
of breaking it off completely, I manage to straighten it.
Meanwhile, an elderly man is hovering nearby, clearly desperate to think
of something intelligent to say. He fails, but he's pleasant enough,
and I take time to tell him a little about my planned ride. He shows no
comprehension, but seems pleased that he'll able to tell his friends
later that he spoke to a unicyclist.
As I mount, he produces a camcorder. This is embarrassing, as the last
person to ride my MUni was Rob Northcott, who is somewhat taller than I
am - most people are - and I leap merrily into the saddle and find I
can't reach the bottom pedal!
I ride the short distance from the car park to the trail, then set off
towards "My Own Personal Everest". MOPE is in fact the Middeton
Incline, a long 1:7 hill with an uneven surface. The best I've ever
managed is to ride up it with three UPDs. That was on my old 24 with
150 mm cranks. On the 26 with 150s, I've never managed with fewer than
about 10 UPDs.
The trail is a bit crowded with ramblers, and I have to appear surprised
and amused by their standard-issue unicycle comments. They're friendly
enough.
Soon, I reach the foot of the incline, and start to slog up. I'm not
the best hill climber in the world and it's hard work. The ground is
mainly compacted gritty mud on a base of railway ballast. The surface
is more chewed up than I remember it, with ruts, hupms and some loose
ballast. Although the average gradient is 1:7 (14%) each ridge or rut
or projecting bit of rock can suddenly make it much steeper.
Every 10 metres or so, there is a stone kerb running diagonally across
the incline to deflect surface water when it's raining. The easiest
answer is to ride around the ends of these, but at the ends, the trail
surface is just that little bit trickier. When you're riding at 80% or
90% of your ability, it doesn't take much to provoke a mistake.
A couple of hundred metres up, I see two walkers in front of me, and an
unrestrained dog. I have to pick my route carefully, timing it so that
I don't end up stalling on a particularly rough bit of trail, or falling
against the walkers, or getting between them and the dog. Serious
advice: never ride between a dog and its owner, if the dog is near
enough to react.
And about 1/3 of the way up the incline, as I approach the first real
landmark - a bridge that goes over the trail - I hit a patch of rough
rocky ground and UPD. I swear loudly.
I'm now faced with a choice: plug on up the hill with nothing to achieve
but fatigue, or ride back down and start again in the hope of doing
better next time.
You've guessed it. And yes, I UPD again, only a few metres further on.
I'm clearly nowhere near good enough to ride this slope in one, and
nowhere near fit enough to try again, so I retreat.
On the way down, I pass a BMX owner, pushing his BMX up the hill. He
grins a little sheepishly as I ride past him, and makes no comment.
Back to Black Rocks, and I follow a track that goes up and down but with
nothing very steep. A young lad shouts out, "Are you downhilling on
that thing?" in tones of mingled surprise and awe. I nod
nonchalantly.
Its a while since I've ridden here, but I can remember some of the
trails. The one I follow takes me up a fairly easy slope, then crests a
small ridge. From here, there is a short descent, only a few metres of
trail, with a very rocky uneven surface. It's about at the limit of my
ability, and I don't think I've ever "cleaned it" before. As I come
over the ridge and face this descent, I see a young couple walking up
the rocky slope towards me, hand in hand.
Now, I've got fairly used to the idea of unicycling, so it's difficult
for me to be sure how it appears to the uninformed member of the public.
If I had to guess, I would say that if I had never seen a unicycle
before, and one came over the crest of a hill towards me, the rider
wearing a full face helmet, and the ground being rocky and slippery, I
would hastily jump to the conclusion that the rider might like me to get
out of his way. Perhaps that's just me, I dunno - I'm always keen to
help.
However, these two lovebirds just separate ever so very slightly, one to
each side of my route... and remain holding hands.
I can't stop. If I try, I will certainly UPD quite dramatically. I
make an executive decision: if they are daft enough to leave me an 18
inch gap, and hold hands across that gap, I'm daft enough to ride
through it.
Like the waters of the Red Sea, their hands part miraculously, and I
ride through, and down to the bottom of the slope, and up the next one,
which is the best I have ever managed on this section of path.
The next uphill is unrideable, so I carry the uni up the steep path,
then ride down the more rideable route. This is almost uneventful
except for when I ride through a deep rut and my right pedal hits the
ground. I'm no Kris Holm, but I can do a pretty mean impression of
Eddie the Eagle.
Back to Black Rocks again, where I carry the uni up a longish steep
slope, and rest at the top, watching the climbers. I used to do that
too, but I was never very good at it - I'm scared of heights.
The descent from Black Rocks is down an uneven slope of scree and
ballast, with many opportunities for impromptu ballistics, but I make it
in one go, and feel quite smug.
My smile is wiped off my face as I ride through the carpark and see a
group of mountain bikers, all dolled up in the proper kit. I've learned
to expect a certain amount of respect from bicyclists, so I am taken
aback when one of them, a boy of about 14, and much younger than the
rest of the group, shouts a tirade of abuse at me, some of it couched in
terms of coloquial gynaecology. What is most shocking is that no one
else in the group of about a dozen older riders even tells him to shut
up. It's a sour end to an otherwise pleasant and challenging ride.
--
Mikefule - Roland Hope School of Unicycling
The poor lack much, the greedy, everything.
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