Sunday morning, bright and clear... I decide to take the MUni up into
Debyshire. I drive up to Black Rocks, Cromford, and set off along the
High Peak Trail - an old railway trackbed converted into a cycling and
walking route.
A short distance up the trail is My Own Personal Everest (MOPE). This
is a long 1:7 (14%) incline with a surface which varies from compacted
mud and grit to loose gravel to rough bedrock. When it was a railway,
the waggons had to be hauled up on a cable pulkled by a massive static
engine at the top. My best ever effort was to ride up MOPE in 3
stages, on a 24 with 150s. Today, I'm on the 26 x 2.3 with 150s.
How do you assess the difficulty of a ride when describing it to others?
It's so subjective. There are so many variables. Let's put it this
way: a few days ago, I did well over 2 hours and well over 20 miles on
the Coker without a dismount or UPD. I don't lack stamina,
determination, technique or concentration. However, I doubt I will ever
climb MOPE without a stop - unless I "cheat" and do it on a 20 with
150s.
I set up MOPE with vigour and enthusiasm... with hindsight, far too much
of both. By about a third of the way, I'm breathing so deeply that the
trees keep swaying towards me, and old people have to cling to their
hats to stop them being ripped from their heads and drawn into my
tortured lungs.
I get flustered on one of the uneven sections and UPD. I take the
opportunity to regain my composure. This is the most technically
demanding section, so I'm still in with a chance of doing the hill "in
two".
Yeah, right! And the Pope never goes to church. After a third of the
rest of the way, I'm so out of breath that I step off the unicycle and
throw myself onto the verge in despair. It takes me a long time to
recover.
Part way up the hill, I meet a pair of volunteers who are doing minor
repairs to the trail. One steps across in front of me with his spade
and says, "I'll just move this stone for you." He flicks the tiniest of
pebbles out of my way. I thank him.
"How far are you going?" He asks.
"To the top," I respond, through gritted teeth.
Another UPD only fifty metres later, and this time, it takes me a couple
of attempts to remount. Wherever I try, there's always a difficult bit
(e.g. a discarded match stick) just too close for me to get my rhythm
going in time.
And then another UPD and two or three failed mounts. I'm overtaken by a
couple of elderly pedestrians.
Eventually, and with no feeling of achievement at all, I make it to the
top.
To put this into context: the first two or three times I attempted this
hill, I turned back around half way up. This current attempt was
probably my second best on the 26. Perhaps cruising up it (I
exaggerate!) on the 24 has given me inflated expectations.
Anyway, there's a small shop at the top, and I purchase Lucozade and a
Snickers (the Bar formerly known as Marathon). It takes me a good 20
minutes to get myself back into a state fit to ride. My hands are
trembling and I feel like I've been fencing all day with no food. As a
former bicyclist, I've experienced the "Dreaded Knock", also known as
"The Bonk" (before that meant something else!) and this is something
different. It's like I've started digesting all next week's meals, only
to find I haven't eaten them yet.
Eventually, I remount and turn to ride back down the hill. The first
few yards of my ride take me past the cycle hire shed, where whole
families are getting ready to set of on mountain bike odysseys, still in
that stage of excited anticipation before the grim reality of differing
expectations, sulky children, and uncomfortable seats sets in.
One witty hirer remarks, "Look... he hired that at half price!"
As I reach the top of the hill, ready to descend, I see the notice that
warns cyclists not to ride down the steep incline. I may well have
pointed out before in this forum that INclines go UP, and DEclines
happen after you hit 40.
I make the whole descent in one. It takes a certain amount of care, but
it's not too demanding. I then turn off towards the quarry, the scene
of my chin splitting UPD of a few months ago. Will I have the courage
to attempt the same obstacle? Or the sense to refrain? Both
possibilities are left hanging because there is a huge family nearby
having a picnic, and I really don't want to spend the next few minutes
being the subject of loud and ironic commentary from the males in the
group.
I ride back to the car park, feeling a little disconsolate. The ride up
MOPE has taken it out of me physically. There's not an awful lot nearby
that I can play on, and there are far too many people about - who would
have thought it on a Bank Holiday weekend? Don't they have a coast to
go to?
I decide to ride off into the woods a bit. The first stage takes me
past a small flat grassy area where a group of people are playing in a
slightly bored fashion with remote controlled cars. "Whizzz!" go the
cars. Then they go, "Whizzz!" This is followed shortly by a "Whizzz!"
This seems to be all that they do. One of the men tries to make it
marginally more interesting by aiming his R/C toy at me and playing
chicken. I'm tempted to run over the bloomin' thing, but I restrain
myself.
So, off into the woods, where I ride a challenging packed mud incline,
weaving between or riding over a few roots and the odd stone. Soon I
get to a bit that's too hard to ride, and I get off and push. I
generally head up hill, half planning to ride the descent. I come to a
slightly flatter smoother bit, remount and ride until I UPD for no good
reason. Morale is getting low. I sit down for a while and listen to
the birdsong and watch a rabbit. I decide the time has come to turn
back, mentally and physically burned out.
I ride most of the way back with only a couple of UPDs on the tricky
sections. Only 3.76 miles covered - some of that walked - and I'm more
beaten than I was after my 22 miler on Tuesday. Am I getting unfit, or
did I just bite off more than I could chew? We'll see.
--
Mikefule - Roland Hope School of Unicycling
Some days you're the fly; some days you're the windscreen. When you're
the fly, you get to eat [censored].
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