This morning dawned misty, damp and grey and it took some effort to
persuade myself to go for a ride. However, "winter drawers on, Mrs.
Thingy," and I thought I'd better make the most of a free day before
the weather gets even worse.
So I drive up to Sherwood Pines Visitor Centre, about 13 miles from
home. Here, if I pay £2, I can have the privilege of parking my car
and probably not having it broken into during my ride.
The Muni is enjoying a new lease of life, ever since I fitted the
Maxxis Holy Roller 26 x 2.4" tyre to it. Instead of a plodding
"tractor", I have come to think of it as a fun unicycle. And just as
Cokers are named after their tyres, I'm starting to think of the MUni
as The Holy Roller.
It's a cold morning so I do a few half-hearted stretches to loosen up
before riding, just to be on the safe side, then I mount and set off at
what counts as high speed for me. The predictable steering of the Holy
Roller, compared to the previous tyre (Gazzaloddi 2.3"😉 invites me to
spin the cranks as fast as I can, rather than holding something in
reserve.
So maybe I set off too fast, because when I reach the first obstacle, a
wiggle gate, my balance circuits haven't warmed up, and as soon as I
slow down, I UPD - most embarrassing.
Then there's a short section of rough but wide track, with grass and
mud, and I feel like I'm "in the zone" as the tyre hoovers it up. This
is the life! Until I get tot he cross roads, slow down... and wallop!
Another UPD.
I remount and ride a little more slowly for a while, zigzagging a bit
and looking for puddles and uneven bits of ground until I feel that all
my brain's gyroscopes have started to spin properly.
I then speed up and ride fast and straight along a wide forest road,
making easy work of a couple of small hills before becoming bored and
diving off into the forest. Here, the tracks are narrower, sometimes
muddy, sometimes blocked by deep muddy puddles, and often crossed by
tree roots. Now I really am in the zone, and I make faster progress
than I would have thought possible a few weeks ago. It's late morning
on a cold damp Saturday when most people are probably shopping or
watching TV, so I have the forest to myself.
The trail I'm following spits me out next to a gate, and I suddenly
recognise where I am: the place where I often used to park my car until
it got broken into a few weeks ago. I cross the tarmac lane and pass
through a gate onto another wide forest road. This is a side of the
forest that offers lots of good riding, some challenging hills, and
fewer people, but somehow I seldom ride here. I think it's because the
very first section is a long uphill, and when I used to park here, my
wheel naturally turned towards the easier track at the start of the
ride.
I pass a couple of surprised mountain bikers. They look like the sort
who put their bikes into top gear, pedal three for three strokes then
coast for a bit before stopping to regroup, never break sweat, and go
home thinking they've been doing an extreme sport. Still, it's a free
country, and it's certainly not my place to shout unsolicited comments
at people with strange hobbies, so I nod a greeting and continue up the
hill.
At the top of the hill, the track turns to the right and becomes level.
I make a conscious effort to slow down, hoping to see some deer. No
luck. I guess they were all shot and eaten by a legendary outlaw in
the time of King John. Either that or they're just elsewhere in the
forest. Anyway, I get my breath back then turn off the easy track
again for a short climb to meet one of the best fun tracks I know.
This track is wide enough for a Land Rover, but appears never to be
used by anyone except the occasional horse rider or unicyclist. There
are logs strewn across the trail in places, and I practise riding over
these - nothing thicker than about 3 or 4 inches. The mud and sand of
the path is carpeted with golden autumn leaves, stuck together in a
soggy mess, and concealing all manner of unexpected wheel traps.
The trees in this part of the forest are mainly chestnut, horse
chestnut and beech, all of which have spiky seed cases and I can hear
these falling around me as I ride. I'm wearing a helmet, and I cast my
mind back to the last helmet debate in this forum. Does the helmet
make it more likely that my head will be hit by a falling conker, or
just more likely that it will hurt me if it does hit me? I never did
follow that debate properly.
I turn a corner and there's a short steep incline with mud, sand and
gravel, I lose traction and step off. This is an opportunity to rest
and get my breath back. I sit and watch the vapour of my sweat forming
clouds and drifting in the light breeze - these are rare weather
conditions indeed. I also watch a squirrel, busy clambering up and
down a tree and hiding nuts in the ground. The forest is silent except
for the occasional rattle and thud of a conker falling through the
leaves and landing on the forest floor, the drip drip of earlier rain
falling from the leaves, the distant songs of birds... and the
chainsaw-rasp of 2 stroke motorbikes on the nearby railway embankment.
A few minutes later, I'm up on the railway embankment, and the bikers
have moved on. The embankment no longer has a railway track on it, and
the surface has subsided unevenly, leaving a long sequence of humps and
hollows. Each hollow is full of dirty water. I ride along, hitting
the puddles at reasonable speed so that my momentum carries me through.
I can roughly judge the depth of the water from the width of the
puddle, but sometimes I am taken by surprise, or the bottom of the
puddle is particularly slimy. However, I make it without a dismount
until I reach a bit where the water is so wide and deep it would be
foolish to try. I find a way past this and then I'm on a wide barren
area of rutted ground and slimy puddles.
I ride for a bit, with no clear sense of purpose, and decide that this
area is not a nice place to be. I toy with the idea of riding down the
side of the embankment. As I am considering this, I see a little
Suzuki jeep full of youths appears from the direction that I've just
come from. This decides me, and I launch over the edge of the
embankment onto a steep and rutted sand and gravel slope. A few pedal
strokes down, I sideslip and step off.
I pause to regroup, and the jeep appears at the top of the hill behind
me. I invite the driver to overtake, but he smiles and tells me to go
ahead. The pressure is on, and I freemount, and spin and slide down
the long sandy slope, arms waving frantically, and make it to the
bottom in one. Boy! That must've looked good! The jeep follows me
down and turns in the opposite direction at the bottom of the slope,
the driver giving a cheery wave.
A little later, I am at the edge of The Desert. This is a wide expanse
of sand and gravel on former quarry land, and is a regular meeting
place for young men with dirt bikes, quads and jeeps. I've ridden on
here before, and it isn't easy. So I set off up a gravel path that
climbs up to a platform that overlooks the desert. I make the whole
climb in one go then, tired, UPD at the very top. I'm probably 20
metres or so higher than the desert, and I have a commanding view of
the motorbikers in one direction, and the treetops in the other.
Breath fully recovered, I ride on until I find a chance to descend. I
choose a steep sand and gravel slope that I've never successfully
ridden down before. I feel like I trust the Holy Roller more than I
trusted the Gazz, and I start the descent, carefully at first, then
allowing the uni to speed up until I spin out on the very last bit.
This is a tactic I would never have risked before, and my reward is my
first ever successful descent by this route.
A few minutes later, I am riding across The Desert itself. In places
the sand is hard packed, and bound together by moisture. The tyre
sinks in ever so slightly, but control is easy. In other places,
motorbikes have broken the surface and stirred the mixture of sand and
gravel leaving it unstable. These sections are tiring work, and I am
aware of a distant audience of youths on motorbikes - and that they
might at any moment choose to become a nearby audience. I UPD once,
but not badly, then walk a short distance to some packed sand and
remount.
I hear the bikes roaring towards me from behind. I have no idea
whether they just happen to be coming this way, or whether they are
riding over to chat, or to be hostile. This is an area where I would
not like to fall foul of the local youth population. I keep riding
until, hitting a patch of deep sand, I fall, landing on all fours. I
check the seat, remount and ride on. I'm aware of the bikes stopping a
short distance behind me, but nothing is said. Perhaps fortunately,
from the credibility point of view, the next part of my route is a
short series of humps, bumps and a narrow muddy ridge, and I ride it
all in one.
--
Mikefule
So, do you ride with a club?
No, but I carry a heavy spanner.
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