The return of the Mikefule quiz! You will find various deliberate
mistakes in here. They are mistakes of "general knowledge" that I
would expect all or most of you to have a chance to spot. The quiz
requires no special unicycling knowledge, and no knowledge of my
previous wride ups. The answers are nothing to do with spelling,
grammar or vocabulary, and there are no hidden distance or direction
puzzles. It's just simple general knowledge, although with a bit of a
bias towards British readers, I suppose.
You will find 4 parts of the wride up where there are deliberate
errors. Three of the errors are single "facts". In the fourth and
last, there is a cluster of "mistakes", one of which will only appeal
to pedants of a certain age.
-_ANSWERS_BY_PM,_NOT_IN_THE_THREAD,_THANKS._-
So here we go:
Another free Saturday. Luxury!
I arrive at the car park at around midday. It is bright, slightly
chilly, with a stiff breeze and with a threat of light rain. I am
feeling unfit and stiff, and I certainly need to ride, but it has taken
some effort to persuade myself to do so.
I set off along my traditional route, which starts on a wide, hard but
unmade track between tall pines. There is a surge and a roar of wind
in the treetops which sounds like the sea breaking on a shingle beach.
The pines have tall, almost bare trunks, with all the green growth
confined to the top, and when I glance up, I can see waves of motion
passing through the treetops.
As usual, I turn off at the first opportunity, and follow an undulating
packed earth track that zigzags between the trees until it meets a
slightly wider track. This is an ideal warm up for my balance skills:
nothing difficult, but just enough for me to engage my concentration.
I turn left at the T junction and ride up a gentle slope through mixed
woodland before turning right onto a wide hard track. This track is
wide enough for Land Rovers or forestry trucks to pass each other,
although I have never yet seen a vehicle on it. Today, it is deeply
carpeted with crisp autumn leaves which crunch beneath my tyre like
discarded Pringles. (The tasty snacks, not the sweaters, stupid!)
Occasionally, a dry twig snaps beneath the wheel, the report echoing
from the tree trunks to each side.
Here I pass a family who are riding mountain bikes in the opposite
direction. Most of them pass friendly comment. The little girl
shouts, "You're the coolest thing I've seen."
Hmmm. If only she knew I was a 44 year old office worker who only owns
straight-leg jeans, and who enjoys Morris dancing and folk song. Or
perhaps that's the new definition of cool. Or maybe she's led a
sheltered life, hasn't seen much, and so far I really am the
coolest...
Left again, and up a slight incline, a narrow single track with
brambles snatching at my bare legs. Soon I turn right and the riding
is easier, slightly down hill, and with a little bit more variety.
There are birch trees, with their small, almost disc-like golden leaves
scattered beneath them like fairy gold.
Soon I meet the main track again, and cross it. As I do so, I notice a
family group of cyclists to my left, all on pseudo mountain bikes, and
with halogen (or bright LED) lights on, in broad daylight. I draw your
attention to my comments about risk perception and risk management on
Kris Holm's thread elsewhere. I hear one of the cyclist shout
something to the others.
Now I am riding in mixed woodland (although I later checked, and the
map shows it all as evergreen plantation) and there are oak, birch,
sweet chestnut and beech trees between the conifers. I know this
section well, and I take some favourite diversions along narrower more
interesting tracks that run parallel.
At the end of this section, I have to drop down a fairly steep slope of
long unmown grass, with no obvious path. The grass is long enough and
thick enough to hide obstacles, and the slope is steep enough that I
need to put a lot of back pressure on the pedals. I reach the bottom,
and now I have a couple of options. This is the place where I cracked
a rib a year or so ago, landing badly with my chest on the palm of my
wrist guard in a low speed fall. Pride determines that I go the
difficult way, up a slight slope across tussocky grass with hidden mole
hills and the occasional fallen branch.
Out of breath now, after 15 minutes tough riding without a stop, I take
the easy route for a bit, uphill, but on a hard-surfaced track. Then I
turn right along a straight and easy path that is almost level. Within
a couple of minutes I pass a turn to the left, and, on a whim, I do a U
turn and then take this side route. It is between dense conifers, and
is dark and almost silent, only the sound of my breathing, and the
occasional creak of the trees in the breeze.
The path is blocked by a fallen tree, apparently deliberately dragged
there, but there is a new path around the obstacle, and soon I'm back
out on a main route. Time again for some easy riding and to get my
breath back.
To my right is some open waste ground, a sort of clearing, which has
been colonised by bracken and gorse. The gorse is still in flower,
it's bright yellow blooms adding a cheerful air to an otherwise
desolate scene. Most of the bracken has turned rusty red as winter
approaches.
In the distance, I see the distinctive black and white flash of a
magpie rising, and then flying in it's distinctive "too much like hard
work" style, carrying its slightly too long tail behind it. Something
brown flashes across the clearing and into the trees to my left, bigger
than a finch, too small for a game bird. I keep an eye out as I
approach and it comes out of the trees again, constantly reappearing
from the cover then darting ahead of me to a safe distance and then
perching. Eventually it becomes complacent and ignores my approach and
as I ride past, I see the distinctive black and red chest bars of a
spatchcock.
Left again, then right, and down a steep hill, where I see my route is
blocked by soft dry sand. I have never been sure whether these "sand
drifts" are a natural feature, or the sand is brought there by the
forestry people. What I do know is it's either a challenge or a
nuisance, depending on my mood and stamina. Today, I hit it rather
carelessly, ride for a few metres, and then I feel the familiar slide
and sink of the wheel hitting a deep patch and I UPD. 25 minutes of
cross country riding, probably 3 miles or more, and my first stop.
I remount and soon reach a junction with what I always remember as the
path where I saw my first jay.
This path has two parallel single tracks separated by a narrow ridge of
green growth. One path is smooth but sandy, the other is rougher but
firmer. The choice is made more difficult by the low branches that
intrude onto the firmer right hand track, but that's the one I take.
And then, the distinctive sound of the Ran-dells singing "The Martian
Hop": my controversial ring tone on my mobile! I dismount and answer
it, only to find it's a wrong number - someone who wants me to lay a
laminate floor for him!
I don't usually stop on this section, but I have stopped to answer the
phone at a junction with a previously unnoticed path. It dips down
then climbs up onto what looks like a manmade embankment. I decide to
go with it, so I walk to the top (it's far too steep to ride) and then
walk down the other side. (Some of you would ride it, but I live alone
and have no one to nurse me if I injure myself.)
This opens up a previously unknown section of the forest, which is
mainly a clearing with a mess of packed earth tracks around it. I am
riding more or less parallel to the embankment, which stands a few
metres high on my right, and seems to have a bit of a ditch in front of
it, although the whole thing is overgrown, in some places with mature
trees.
There are about four reasons for earthworks: flood defences, transport
(road and railways), mining or quarrying, and military defence. The
first three can be excluded because of the location, which suggests
that what I can see is some sort of fortification. A later check of
the map reveals nothing, so whether it is an old iron age rampart or
something from military training in the last hundred years or so is a
mystery. Or perhaps its a left over from one of the battles in the
Napoleonic war. There is a military camp nearby, and there are other
similar embankments in the forest. The fact that it's not mapped
suggests it isn't an ancient site.
--
Mikefule
I'd try cynicism, but what's in it for me?
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