Back in black

Having missed out on Tuesday night’s biking due to feeling rubbish, out I went last night instead. After the inevitable delays, I missed getting out in the last of the light by a long chalk. Inky dark it was at 7:30 when I finally reached Ashton Court. I attempted to carry out my usual pre-ride bike check over, but realised it was pointless – especially since I couldn’t be bothered to remove my front lights to use them as torches.
There had been no shortage of rain on Tuesday, so I was expecting big puddles and loads of mud. Right then, best drop the tyre pressure a bit. Down the pressure went from fnmpf psi to fbapbf psi. All very helpful; scientifically measured and calculated of course. Off down the trail we go then. Hmm, surprisingly un-muddy. A bit of standing water, but not slimy. Sweet. Best pick the pace up a bit I suppose. Fortunately my legs had made a minor recovery from their pathetic state at the weekend and I could actually push on a bit. Still not an impressive pace you understand, but forward motion involving some effort at least.
There seemed to be no one else at all around. I couldn’t see or hear anyone in the woods around me. Until heading up a “fire road” (sort of) section. I saw lights ahead and heard voices which seemed to be a bunch of kids. When a met them coming the other way, they were a much more annoying bunch than kids though. It was a group of about 15 or so adults out for a night time run along the wider trails of the woods. Unfortunately they were the sort of adults who take great glee in pretending that they are still children out on a cub scout adventure. You know the types. All over excited and making stupid comments. Having become accustomed to being in the woods and feeling quite alone, all I wanted to do was have at them with a belaying pin, or maybe a marlinspike. I must have been feeling a bit nautical. However, sense reigned and I put the cranks to good use and got away from them as fast as I could.
Apart from the adids (opposite of kidults), it was all very pleasant. Didn’t even fall off. Having said that, I came mighty close on a couple of occasions and if had been more weary I probably would have come a cropper. But I had a thought as I was weaving through the trees last night about how night riding works. Well, night riding with my lights anyway. It’s a kind of visual and memory patchwork which creates an overall vision of what is coming ahead. As the handlebars weave around and the bike leans around corners, you have a constantly variable section of trail which is visible. Keeping your eyes ahead and looking up the trail, or where you think the trail is going. The decisions you make and the adjustments made are based on patching together the various bits you have seen in the last few seconds and your subconscious memory of the trail. There are a few areas where I have been going wrong consistently and I made a conscious effort to sort those out in daylight at the weekend. For those couple of areas, I was fine last night. Knitting all of this information together, you can finally start to feel more comfortable.
Can’t wait to try out a brand new trail in the dark. Anything could happen . . . .

By popular demand . . .

So, what of this weekend’s biking then? That seems to be the question. Quite surprised anyone’s that interested, apart from me – and I’m only slightly interested. Well, being the weekend, there is only one route to take isn’t there? So out on Saturday and then back out on Sunday it was to be then.
I had hoped for a long lie in consisting of lots of sleep on Saturday, but my body didn’t agree. Up and about far earlier than I had wished for, I decided that a pootle round the Timberland trail was the obvious choice. And so it was that I headed out on a grey autumn Saturday morning, looking forward to being able to see where I was going for a change.
There were two small matters I hadn’t mentally factored into this. The first was that, despite the weather forecast, there had plainly been some overnight rain. Crikey, those leaves were mighty slippery. The second small matter was discovered at the start of the trail.
As always, I ride my bike up to Ashton Court and then give it a once over at the start of the trail. That might seem like an arse about face way to go about it – why not check it at home before leaving? I don’t know, it just seems to work. The ride up to the woods loosens up my legs a bit and then I give ‘em a little stretch before the off road starts and check over the bike at the same time. Anyway, that’s not the point, this is: as I was checking over the steed, I noticed a suspension pivot bolt which looked loose. “Better tighten that up”, I thought, rummaging in my pack for the trusty multi-tool. The next thought was “oh deary me”, or something like that. There was not tightening up this bolt, however hard I tried. You see, the bolt head and the nut on the opposite end were no longer mechanically connected to each other. Broken pivot bolt. Hmmm, what to do. I did the only sensible thing and headed off around the trail anyway!
Apart from one ballet style dismount, which resulted in me scampering down a 10 foot drop while my bike stayed at the top, the ride was fairly uneventful.
After couple of laps or so of the trail, the bolt was still in place. The bike hadn’t collapsed, just the rider. I was one tired pile of rubbishness. From the start my legs seemed to be running on empty and they just stayed that way. Couldn’t seem to get any purposeful forward motion once the ground gradient exceeded about one degree upwards. I pottered home and melted presuming that Sunday would be better.
Maybe it had been the fact that I was only just awake yesterday. That was my not so carefully considered analysis on Sunday and the reason I didn’t head out until lunchtime. So it was that I sat at the start of the trail early on Sunday afternoon checking the new M6 bolt in my suspension pivot was still there and that the nut was tight. All present and correct, no need to worry on that front.
Heading off along the trail, I knew very quickly that energy levels of yesterday were also still present and correct. Bleedin’ legs – they’re rubbish! Still, no point in worrying about, just get on and get the miles in. Apart from the useless legs thing, everything seemed to be going pretty well. The trails had dried out a lot since yesterday and the leaves were no longer the black ice obstacles they had been on Saturday. That meant that I could blast along my favourite rock section as fast as possible, and so I did. Suddenly there was some go in the legs and I was pedalling like crazy at every opportunity. Rounding the last turn and cresting the slight uphill, I saw the trail ahead full of four static bikers. The idiots were just sitting there in the middle of the trail, just short of where the trail switches back on itself. I had to pull away to the side of the little slab drop which ends the rocky section. If I had gone over it, I would never have avoided them. As it was, I wasn’t sure I could stop, so I decided on an escape route. Heading off the side of the trail, bike brake hard on and rear wheel locked, I managed to drop down and turn 180 degrees to end up on the switched back section of the trail, front wheel sliding across the dirt. Somehow I stayed on and kept going. I think the idiots thought I was being flash. I doubt it occurred to them that the other option had been for me to plough straight into them.
Nearing the end of my ride and my capacity to cycle, I passed a geezer pushing his Merlin Malt and checked whether all was ok. As it turned out, he had a flat and a puncture repair kit, but no tyre levers. Taking pity, I removed his tyre, furnished him with a replacement tube when it turned out that the valve was the problem.
Feeling like a good Samaritan with jelly legs, I pottered off home hoping that the evening rides will be more satisfying.

The idiot diaries

So week two of after dark off road biking has come. It must be autumn then. No pretending it’s the end of summer anymore. The mornings are dark, as are the evenings and there is more than just an occasional chill in the air.

So how did week two go? Well, late on Tuesday afternoon it seemed as though half of the waters of the shipping forecast dropped from the skies in about 30 minutes. Any sane person would take that as a signal not to venture out into the woods to tackle leaf strewn trails. I am an idiot. Off I went in to the dark. There was a definite slipperiness to the trails not to mention standing water. The rain had been sufficient to turn the surface of the trail to slime, while the dirt below remained firm. The slime, the soaking leaves and the abundant tree roots made for an interesting experience.

I felt I had the required control though and ploughed ahead, deciding to wander in a slightly different direction from normal. The rocky and rooty descent which often takes riders by surprise in the daylight proved to be quite fun. As the ground leveled out at the bottom of the slope and I slowed, both in forward motion and mental process, the front wheel slipped away from under me, dumping my right knee onto the dirt, roots and rocks. Bugger. First time I had experienced an unintentional dismount (fall) in the dark. I knew it was down to not concentrating, so I hopped straight back on and set off again.

All was well until the very last little section of flat trail, which I was only pottering along. I must have been thinking about what soup I was going to have, or which socks were the most comfortable, or something equally important. What I was not thinking about was avoiding the slippery roots and suddenly I was on my side in the slime. Bugger again. I wouldn’t make such foolish mistakes on my next night mission I promised myself . . . .

Thursday evening and the second night ride of the week. Picture the grim determination (or constipation) as the cranks spin and the wheels roll across the Clifton suspension bridge. My hydrapack is on my back loaded with water to sustain me. My ageing Cateye RC230 lights, with their huge lead acid battery pack, are in place, charged and ready to go. I’ve even donned my full finger gloves instead of the summer favourites. The sky is clear, it hasn’t rained since Tuesday afternoon and the wind is in my hair. Hang on, the wind is in my hair . . . My hair is exposed to the wind. My helmet is not on my head. My helmet is on my bed. Oh buggeration. Do I risk a trip sans bonce protection? Er, not on the evidence of the last outing! Back across the bridge I go and back to the flat. Oh well, at least it’s all downhill back to the flat. That means it’ll be all uphill again very soon. The same uphill I’ve just done. Ho hum.

Eventually into the woods I go. Still not fast, but at least I’m not feeling as utterly unfit as I did two weeks ago. The fear of four days biking in Scotland in early November is good motivation. I won’t be fit by any means, but I may avoid heart failure. Anyway, my road light has just run out of battery power on the second trip across the bridge, so I have single light illumination only. The road light usually lights the area right in front of the bike. Not normally of too much interest, but useful in a peripheral vision kind of way. The trail is dry though and it’s all good. As I head down the descent that lead to my Tuesday mishap, I can see light through the trees ahead. When I say light, I mean car headlight bright. How can someone get a car in here? A couple of hundred yards more and the mystery is solved. A group of four mountain bikers are sitting there and one of them appears to have created history. By all appearances he has harnessed nuclear fission and strapped it to his bike helmet. Perhaps this is the second coming? Light radiates from this biker's head and those gathered around bathe in it’s glory - the disciples no doubt. Where the hell is the challenge in riding with that thing on your head?! Well, apart from avoiding radiation sickness of course. Never seen the like . . .

The rest of the ride passes comfortably. A surprising number of bikers are out. I must have seen about ten in all. Of course, they are all in groups of at least two, none are stupid enough to go out on their own. That would be foolish and probably asking for trouble. I enjoy it though. Being out on your own, biking in the woods, is always good. Sometimes company is good too, but I like the solitude. Being out, biking in the woods - in the dark - on your own is a different experience, but a good one. I’ll be back for more next week after a dose of daytime riding at the weekend. Variety – spice of life. Sweet as.

(k)Night rider II

So, following the relative success of the first night mission, I left work yesterday planning to get into the woods to enjoy the last light of the day, but finish up my pootle around in the dark.
A chance meeting consisting of a 40 minute chat and catch up with an old friend put paid to that best laid plan. Damn and blast!
You know what though? It didn’t matter a jot really. I found myself revelling in the sight before me as I pedalled across the Clifton suspension bridge. The sun had set, but the sky near the horizon still held the warmth of the day in a bright turquoise colour, which rapidly faded into deep blue as I looked higher, where the first stars were making their appearance. This view was framed and enhanced by the arc of the suspension bridge, lit like a Christmas tree, all in bright white points of lights. Oh how I wished for a camera, preferably a decent one! Oh, and the skill to use it properly too.
Camera-less, I plodded on up the road to the entry gates to Ashton Court, arriving just in the nick of time and scooting through as the gates were locked behind me. There were obviously not going to be too many people around then!
Heading into the trees it proved to be even darker than a couple of nights ago, but thankfully much drier, both in the air and under my tyres. True to my purpose I pressed on, keeping a far improved pace over the last outing. It seemed that I had suddenly come to terms with what I would be able to see and managed to keep a better eye on the trail at the limit of the patch of light in front. Less in the way of surprises allowed me to get closer to daylight pace. Still a gear or two down, but much better and even more fun!
However, about 30 minutes into the off road riding, I still felt I should be faster. That was until I saw two other people on a parallel trail. They had pretty good lights by the look of it; I saw them easily through the trees. My giddy aunt but they were slow! I know the trail they were riding and it’s quite clear and easy. Perhaps I should cease with the berating of myself then.
The ride passed smoothly and silently, apart from the occasional bat and a few birds flitting around in the tree tops. No falling off, a few rear wheel slides when the concentration slipped, but no major mishaps. I think I quite like riding through the woods in the dark you know. It’s a different experience and a different challenge. Still, looking forward to a good blast round in the daylight at the weekend though . . . .

Winter biking

Last night I fell in love, all over again. My RockShox Revelation forks. Oh how I adore them!
It was the first after dark mountain bike trip of the season. Off I wobbled, into the Ashton Court woods at 7.15 on a damp October evening. Out of the woods it was nearly dark, under cover of the trees it was really dark. As I bounced my way over the first few tree roots I noticed something marvellous. The lit area in front of me was staying on the trail, not flying off into the trees and undergrowth. Could it be that I was going to be able to see where I was going?! Fantastic. There I was slipping and sliding around on the autumnal wet leaves and mud in the black of night and still generally able to see where I was heading. The tunnel of light before me lit up far enough into the distance to pull up where friendly walkers had thrown logs across the trail (it's not unusual as Tom Jones would have it), the trees arching over a ribbon of dirt which disappeared into the gloom.
I returned an hour later, muddy but grinning. A sense of achievement at not falling off , which I can normally manage in the bright light of a summer day on a dry and dusty trail.
Just two things to do now. First, go faster. Second, get a helmet mounted light so that I can look at where I am about to go, as well as where I'm currently going.
Winter? No problem. Light up your life (and the woods) . . . .